Better Together
by Alexabee
Summary: [Reposted] After coming to Panem University in a tumultuous, undefined relationship with her longtime friend Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Evedeen has an encounter with one of her roommates, Peeta Mellark, which brings out the best in everyone. It's unconventional, but the three discover that they really are better together. Keywords: smut, polyamory, threesome, AU, melleverthorne
1. Chapter 1: Hot, Angry Hate Sex

_Author's Note:_ Better Together was originally started as a Hunger Games AU in September 2012. It was an answer to a threesome-themed erotic novel I had read several months prior which I felt was lacking in realism and likability. It inspired me to write an erotic THG threesome fic which existed in a sort of heightened reality - a fantasy which was still realistic enough to be relatable for readers. After completing about nine or ten chapters of Better Together, I went on hiatus from writing in 2013. But since Josh Hutcherson's interview with Out Magazine (where he weighs in on how he believes Peeta Mellark would react to a threesome/polyamorous relationship) I have had an influx of requests via tumblr to republish this story. So here it is! I hope you enjoy Better Together.

Thank you to my betas, Mig14, Fnurfnur and JennaGill!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Hot, Angry Hate Sex**

Gale flips me over onto my stomach, grabbing my thighs and roughly yanking my naked lower half over the edge of bed towards where he's standing between my legs. The sheets have already come loose from the mattress, but I claw at fistfuls of the fabric anyways. I'm going to need something to hang on to, if the ferocity with which he just ripped off my jeans is any indication of what's to come.

True to form, Gale smoothes his hands over the curve of my ass before sinking his thick cock into me, that initial caress being the first, last and only sweet thing to pass between us all afternoon. The heat and fullness as he slides inside makes me gasp – how he manages to hit the right spot almost instantly always gets me. I dig my fingernails into the sheet. He's lucky that he's not beneath me right now or I'd be covering him with scratches. We have been arguing since lunchtime and by now we're both far too worked up to be gentle with one another.

"Damn it," I hear him breathe as he lifts my hips upward. "How do you do this to me?"

I don't answer. It's a rhetorical question, anyway.

With that, Gale pulls out almost completely then slams into me, again and again, shaking the whole bed. I wince in pleasure and try to focus on taking in as much air as possible, since every hard slap of his body against mine actually wrenches the breath from my lungs. These hard, deep thrusts of his always manage to make me feel like I'm about to fall to pieces. The intensity is frightening and incredible at the same time.

"Oh god," I whimper as the movement of his body forces mine to inch up the mattress. It feels _so fucking good,_ and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep from crying out.

There are no headboards on these residence beds, but the box spring still rhythmically thumps against the wall. My quadmates would certainly be able to hear us if they weren't all in class and if this wasn't the middle of a Thursdayafternoon. Thankfully, it is. Still, I have to bite the sheets to keep the loud, hiccuping moans that Gale has begun to coax from my throat to a bearable, human volume.

"Fuck, Katniss!" he mutters, spurred on by my reaction, pounding into me even more fiercely. His fingers dig painfully into my skin and then he suddenly drops my hips. "Give me your fucking wrists," he growls, ripping my hands from their grip on the sheet and pinning them down at my sides, instead. I feel his full weight come to rest against the length of my back as he covers my body with his and leans in to nip at my neck, blowing a tendril of my hair aside to do so. His cool breath puffing across my damp, sweaty skin sends a shiver right through me, right down to where my clit throbs, aching for attention.

"Ah!" I sigh, reduced to begging. "Please, please!" He moans into my skin in response, knowing what I need before I even have to voice it. His thrusts no longer shake the whole bed but instead begin to pulse deep inside of me, causing my legs to tremor uncontrollably beneath his. He's so heavy that I can't move at all except to wiggle my fingers and curl my toes, which heightens just how hot the sex is. A loud whimper escapes my lips without my permission.

"Yes," Gale moans, angling himself differently so he can finish me off. I'm losing control and it's what he wants.

"Gale," I gasp, chanting his name over and over. Then, "_Stopstopstop_, you're gonna make me scream!"

"Good," he pants into my ear, his breath falling hot against my neck. "You'd better."

I lift my chin to the side a little to allow him access to my lips. He covers my mouth with a burning kiss just as he knees one of my legs up onto the bed, the inside of my thigh now pressed flat to the edge of the mattress. It creates a teasing bit of friction between my throbbing clit and the damp spot on the sheets beneath us, which hurls my body straight towards the brink of pleasure.

"Oh!" I moan loudly into his mouth, shuddering beneath him just as everything else is reduced to white noise.

"I want to feel you come on my cock," he whispers breathlessly. "Come on."

"Gale, don't—!" I gasp, but my climax cuts me off. I stretch out my fingers, gripping his strong forearms as an intense orgasm floods my body and leaves me reeling. I actually go numb with pleasure.

"Say it," Gale is grunting when my ability to make sense of words returns, but I'm not sure what he means until I hear myself screaming his name into the blankets. He releases my wrists and mercifully covers my mouth with his palm as the next wave of my climax crashes over me and pulls us both under. "Ah, fuck, _fuck_, yes! I can feel you," he groans above me, fisting his hand in my mussed ponytail. He pulls it roughly to the side as he fills me, releasing a low, shaky sound of satisfaction when he finishes.

Gale exhales loudly, pulling away immediately afterwards and collapsing on the mattress beside me. We don't cuddle this time. We don't kiss. I draw my arms up under my breasts, still facedown, still jerking and trembling with the aftershocks of being thoroughly fucked, in every sense of the word.

Our fighting had so seamlessly dissolved into angry, passionate, hate-fueled fucking, and I'm not sure who won the argument.

He reaches down and uses a corner of the soaked, balled-up bed sheet to wipe his thighs. "Did you have to come everywhere?" he mutters as he stands up to throw his jeans back on, forgetting his underwear.

"Please. You're not that talented," I retort, my cheek still pressed lazily to the mattress. With that, Gale flips me over onto my back, pins my knee up against my side and plunges his fingers into my pussy. I gasp. He wetly pumps me to orgasm yet again, and he doesn't relent until I'm soaked, whimpering and begging him to stop.

"See?" he says afterwards, showing me his slick fingers. He's standing over me, half dressed, while I'm red faced and spread eagle below him, still pulsing and clenching and bucking involuntarily with the aftershocks of my climax.

He's definitely won.

Gale shoves my knee away and wipes his hands on the sheet again, then throws his shirt on. I feel like I should say something, but I don't. I just lie there limp, with my legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

"I have to go," is all he says, avoiding eye contact as he reaches for the doorknob.

"You're just leaving?" I ask flatly. We haven't even resolved anything. Gale shoots me a look which reveals that he's thinking the exact same thing, except that in his mind that means that any further clumsy attempts at communication are useless. I halfheartedly agree, though it still annoys me that he's walking away.

"Yeah, Katniss. I have a bus to catch," he says tiredly. "Are you gonna put on some pants, or… ?" he motions towards my bare lower half. I'm naked, save for the t-shirt scrunched up above my breasts. In the heat of the moment, Gale hadn't even bothered to remove it.

I roll over to face the wall and throw the blanket over my hips.

"I'll take that as a no," he says under his breath. He then stomps out into the common area, leaving my door wide open. I hear the front door of the quad slam shut behind him.

"Damn you, Gale," I mutter, sitting up to glare at the empty spot where he'd just been standing. He could've at least closed the bedroom door behind him. I hurl my pillow to the ground in frustration.

Gale is one of my oldest, closest friends. He'll call, I know, it's not a matter of that. We're not breaking up. There's not really any definite, romantic relationship there to 'break up' from, anyways. This is just how it's been for years. We fight, we fuck, we're friends. Everything is great for a while, and then it happens all over again. We're both pretty dependable and loyal, though neither of us exactly have much patience or fantastic communication skills. But that's part of what I love about him. We clash becausewe're the same.

Even our families are similar – Gale and I both lost our fathers when we were kids and both have younger siblings to take care of back home. As a result, we've grown up a lot faster than most other people our age. This is probably the same reason why I don't have a lot of friends. While most girls here at Panem University are busy listing off the qualities of their dream husbands and expecting to find Mr. Perfect on the next pub crawl, Gale and I just seem to take shit more seriously. And part of taking shit seriously is realizing that relationships aren't perfect. You _will_argue, eventually, and you'll have to find a way to deal with it.

Today, for example, we dealt with it by having hot, angry hate sex.

I wrap my blanket around my waist and hobble on jellied legs towards the bedroom door in order to close it. Just as I get there, the bedroom door next to mine opens.

It's Peeta Mellark.

I don't really know any of my other roommates yet since we were all just assigned to this co-ed quad by student housing less than a week ago, but Peeta I recognize. We're from the same small district of about 8,000 after all. He was a wrestler in high school. His family runs a bakery. Gale is two years older than us and lives off campus, but Peeta and I are in the same year and even share an English tutorial this semester.

"Hey Katniss," he says with a smirk. Only, it's not really a smirk. It's something else, more in his blue eyes than on his lips, and it's not taunting so much as it is curious. I don't know what that look is. But it does tell me that he's heard everything that's happened between Gale and I today, from the hours of stunted arguing that took place earlier, to the loud, filthy fucking he just heard in explicit detail through the lone wall that separates our bedrooms.

Strangely, I'm more embarrassed about the arguing than the sex.

"Yeah, hi Peeta," I murmur, cheeks flaring. Before I can even make sense of the situation, I bolt for the bathroom. It's only when I get into the shower stall and have a moment to get my head together that I realize I've left my bedroom door wide open, the messy sheets and clothing strewn about serving as even more embarrassing evidence of my private activities. Great. With this in mind, I rinse off quickly. But when I stalk back across the common area, I find that my door has been shut.

I turn towards the couch where Peeta is sitting. He's simultaneously flipping through channels and 'reading' a new textbook for class, as if it's actually possible to watch TV and get homework done at the same time. He glances over at me.

"Rough day?" he asks.

"Did you shut my door?"

"Yeah. I figured you wanted… it shut," he answers, hesitating as he sees my baffled expression. "Didn't you?"

What is his game? Was he trying to lock me out, so I'd be stuck in the common area in just my towel? And _rough day_, what's that about? Is he teasing me about the sex? He's not acting embarrassed or upset, even though we both know he heard everything. He's not making a big deal out of it. He didn't take advantage of my open bedroom door to steal my panties like some pervert, and he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to text everyone he knows to tell them about his awkward new quadmate and her noisy sexcapades.

He's just acting… well, nice.

With Gale, I always know exactly what to expect, but I don't know how to interpret Peeta's behavior and it's throwing me off.

"Uh, yeah. I guess. Thanks," I finally mutter.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"I'm wearing a towel."

"Right."

We stare at each other and both quirk our eyebrows at the same time. I can't tell if he's teasing me or if he genuinely doesn't realize how awkward this conversation is.

"Well, I'll leave you to that, then," Peeta finally shrugs.

He _must_ be teasing me.

I cast a glance at him as I slam my bedroom door shut behind me, but he's already turned his attention back to the TV.


	2. Chapter 2: Separated by a Wall

Author's Note: Better Together will be cross-posted to AO3 soon. Alexabee is my username there as well. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Separated by a Wall**

The next morning, I wake up to a delicious scent. Peeta must be making something apple-cinnamonny in the kitchen.

"Damn it," I mutter, staring up at the ceiling. Why did I have to go and screw things up when I just got a roommate who knows how to bake? Now I'll just be tormented by those sweet, mouth-watering scents as I hide out in my room, avoiding the kitchen for fear of another awkward encounter.

My stomach rumbles and I sigh. It's going to be a long semester.

Twenty minutes before English, I finally roll out of bed and put on a green sweatshirt and the same pair of jeans that I wore the day before. To say I've spent all morning dreading this class with Peeta is an understatement. I've been so good at putting it off that I end up with barely enough time to brush my teeth and braid my hair. I have to sprint across campus in order to not be late.

"Alright, let's get started," Professor Abernathy announces as I rush through the door. I realize as I take my seat that all my stalling was ultimately pointless, since Peeta doesn't even seem to be in class today. My shoulders instantly relax as I look around to confirm this. No, I don't see him. That's a relief.

A relief tinged with disappointment, oddly enough.

My pocket buzzes impatiently. I pull my phone out under the desk to discover a new text from Gale.

_Sorry. I shouldn't have just left._

My blood pressure rises. Gale knows I hate being walked away from, but that's exactly what he did yesterday after our angry fuckfest. Unresolved goodbyes cut particularly deep ever since I lost my father.

That's when I smell it again. Apple cinnamon. I must seriously be hung up on seeing Peeta around if I'm being haunted by the smell of his baking. Can a person lose their mind from embarrassment?

"Katniss," a voice whispers from one row back and my heart skips a beat. I turn, already knowing who I'll see sitting behind me. I never noticed him there before today, but then again, I wasn't exactly on the lookout.

Peeta holds out a plastic container with a freshly baked muffin inside.

"Bet you didn't have breakfast," he whispers, giving me that same, indecipherable smirk as he did yesterday. "Take it."

"Who are you, my mother?" I hiss back, cursing myself before the words are even out of my mouth. What is my problem? He's just being nice. Maybe I'm on edge because of the text from Gale.

Peeta only shrugs in response and starts to withdraw the pastry.

"Fine. If you don't want it—"

"No!" I say a little too loudly, snatching up his offer before he can take it away. It's still hot and burns my fingers a little bit, so I have to juggle it around. "I mean… I _am _hungry, yes," I explain sheepishly, trying to fix the situation and appear sane for a change. But Peeta doesn't seem to be put off by my reaction. He just grins, as if I've been joking on purpose all along. He makes me feel as though I'm witty and charming instead of clumsy and rude.

I feel my lips curling into a tiny smile of my own.

"I thought you might need cheering up," he comments, nodding towards the phone in my hand, and my smile fades. The way Peeta Mellark seems to be able to read my mind is disconcerting.

"I hate to interrupt you two," Professor Abernathy calls out, "but a few of us are just having this little thing called tutorial, if you'd care to join us."

The rest of the small lecture hall echoes with a collective, muted chuckle, Peeta included. I quickly turn back to my desk and lower my eyes. I'm clutching the muffin in one hand, my phone with the open text from Gale in the other. I flip it closed and decide to deal with him after class. For now, I pinch off a piece of the warm, sugary pastry and pop it into my mouth.

It might be best thing I've ever tasted.

_Thanks_, I eventually scrawl on the corner of my notebook, ripping off the page and handing it backwards without looking. Peeta's warm fingers close over mine as he takes the scrap from my hand.

"You're welcome," he whispers a moment later.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I get to know my quadmates better. The girl in the room across from mine is a bubbly blonde from District Four named Nerissa, who thankfully spends most of her time across the hall in a different quad with another girl from Four, gossiping and braiding each other's long, wavy manes. She's the sort of person who is so talkative that I can only tolerate her in small doses.

The guy in the room on the other side of Peeta's is a tall, broad redhead from Seven known as Orin Teevee, who famously chugged an entire bottle of white liquor back in first year and then somehow managed to throw up _into _the microwave in Halloran Hall. Aside from that one unforgettable act of stupidity, he's a pretty studious, quiet guy. Everyone calls him by both of his names like they're one, long word – _Orinteevee_. Peeta seems to get along with both him and Nerissa easily enough, though I'm quickly learning that Peeta has the ability to get along with pretty much anyone.

Case in point: me.

He somehow spins the crippling awkwardness of our first encounters into a playful, sarcastic back-and-forth, which eventually puts me at ease around him. It doesn't hurt that he shares his baking with Orin, Nerissa and I on a regular basis, either. By the time midterms roll around, we all take to studying in the common area late at night while munching on his latest batch of cookies. It's then that I realize Peeta is actually my friend.

After we've made up, even Gale grudgingly admits that he can't hate the guy, though he knows that the Mellarks live in the Merchant Quarter back in Twelve. As a political science student, Gale tends to get on these opinionated rants about class inequality and how privileged the Merchant Quarter is compared to the Seam, which is the working class neighborhood where he and I grew up. Sometimes I have to remind him that my own mother, the daughter of the district apothecary, is from the Merchant Quarter.

"And she's not a bad person," I point out. "You like her."

"She's an exception," he says, giving me a quick kiss.

"And now Peeta, too?" I smile.

"Yeah, well… I don't care where he's from so long as he keeps making _this_," Gale grins, shoveling another forkful of goat cheese quiche into his mouth.

It's a rainy afternoon in the week approaching Thanksgiving when I ask Peeta if he'll be going back to Twelve for the long weekend. Gale and I have a tradition of getting our families together for big holiday meals, which I'm looking forward to.

"I don't think so," Peeta answers, without elaborating. He seems uncharacteristically gloomy.

"How come?" I inquire. I had hoped that he and Gale and I could all take the train together.

"I'm not really close to my family," he says slowly. "Not like you. My mother doesn't exactly think highly of her son doing a fine arts degree. I'll probably just stay here and work on my term project."

I'm about to tell him that his mother must be blind because his paintings are amazing when he looks me right in the eye and says, "I really like you, Katniss."

I'm not entirely sure what he means by it. His straightforwardness still surprises me, even though I've come to acknowledge that full-frontal honesty is a part of his personality. When I relay the incident to Gale later that night, he says that maybe Peeta was hoping for an invitation to our joint family supper. So I resolve to extend one to him.

But Peeta never makes it back to District Twelve for the long weekend, and neither do I. Instead, I come down with some sort of stomach bug the day before the holiday weekend. I tell Gale to go without me, since I can't move let alone board a train without getting sick. Peeta and I are two of only a few people left on campus and he agrees to take care of me, but less than twenty-four hours later he comes down with the exact same thing that I have.

"How're you doing in there?" he feebly asks one evening, standing at the bathroom door.

"Oh, great," I say weakly, lying flat on the tile floor in only my underwear and a sweaty t-shirt. Normally this would be embarrassing, but after you've shared a stomach flu and a single bathroom with someone, you lose all sense of shame. "Just hanging out with my good friend, Toilet Bowl. Have you two met?"

"We go way back. Move over."

I only groan as Peeta slides down the wall and slumps next to me, looking a little pale. I have the prime next-to-toilet spot but he's looking like he might fight me for it at any second. Just thinking about it makes my stomach start to cramp again.

"Ugh," I groan, curling up on my side. "I just want this to end so I can sleep."

"I'll kill you if you kill me," he offers.

"Deal."

After we each throw up again, Peeta hobbles into the kitchen and makes his way back with a jug of apple juice. We sit side-by-side against the wall and take turns swigging straight from the container, not even caring to sip it slowly since it'll probably just come back up anyway. Finally, my stomach settles enough to allow me some much needed sleep and I begin to nod off against his shoulder.

"We should go to bed," he murmurs, shifting.

"No," I mumble. His presence is comforting. "Stay."

I wake up the next morning on the bathroom floor, curled up in Peeta's arms and feeling significantly better. He's shivering though, having sacrificed both sleep and comfort to stay with me. I make it up to him by tucking him into bed and making an arduous, three-block trek to Corner Cornucopia to buy more juice and some chicken soup mix.

"I think I'm dying," he whines that night as I bring him a second bowl.

"No you're not."

"Sure I am. How do you know?"

"Because my mother's a healer. Eat your soup."

Peeta half smiles and obliges, but freezes after two spoonfuls.

"Katniss," he says seriously.

"Yes?"

"Come here, come closer." His sudden change in tone worries me. Maybe he really is far more sick than I thought.

Or maybe he's about to throw up on me and I should get a towel.

"Are you okay?" I ask, putting my hand to his head and taking the bowl of soup away. He _is_ a bit warm. "Here. Maybe you should lie down."

"Okay. But Katniss, I just want you to know," Peeta starts, reaching for my hand and staring into my eyes, "I just want you to know that after I'm gone, you can have the Oreos in my cupboard."

"Well, I wish I'd known they were so special to you. I've already eaten them."

"I know. That's not really why I wanted you to come closer."

I suddenly have butterflies in my stomach. This is new to me. I've never had butterflies with Gale because he's always just been there.

"You're biting your lip," Peeta points out quietly. Embarrassed over my obviousness, I cover my mouth with my fingers. When I finally find the courage to look at him once again, he's still staring at my mouth.

"I should go to bed," I whisper, standing to leave, but Peeta doesn't let go of my hand.

"Stay here. With me," he says simply.

"Peeta…"

"Stay."

"In your bed?"

"Where else?"

"Isn't that kind of… personal?" I ask, struggling for the right word. Now that I'm feeling healthier, I'm distracted by the fact that he's only wearing shorts.

"Katniss. I watched you puke your guts out. We slept on the bathroom floor in our underwear. How much more personal can you get?"

"True," I admit. Then he starts to laugh. "What? Why are you laughing at me?" I demand, offended. It takes Peeta a minute to catch enough breath to even form words.

"I hear you through the walls, having sex _all the fucking time_," he chuckles. "And_you're_ worried about personal space?" Then he dissolves into another fit of laughter.

"I think you're delirious," I say, pressing my palm to his forehead in jest, but only because I have no idea how to respond. Peeta slowly stops laughing, but his eyes still tease.

"Just stay."

I think about his offer for another minute before finally huffing, "Fine!" and crawling under the covers with him. He did it for me, after all.

There's just enough room for two people to spoon in these narrow beds. Peeta's skin is hot and smells surprisingly good for no apparent reason. He immediately creates a pillow for me from his bicep. I curl up against his side and he tightens his grip around me, drawing me in close. Just like the night before, I find myself instantly feeling safe, comfortable and sleepy in his protective embrace, especially when he begins to softly comb out my braid with his fingers.

"That feels good," I mumble against his skin. He doesn't reply, but a moment later he gently knocks on the wall with his knuckles.

"If it wasn't for this, we'd practically be in the same bed, anyway. These walls are paper thin."

"Sorry," I mumble into his chest. "About the… um, noise."

"It's alright," Peeta sighs. I can just make out his profile in the dim light filtering through the window. "Except that sometimes it makes me wish that it was me in there with you, instead. You don't know the effect you have."

He continues to play with my hair, but I find myself frozen. I'm even holding my breath. Sometimes Peeta just drops these bombs that completely stun me. I mean, he just told me that he hears Gale and I fucking and thinks about me in the same way, as if it's a totally matter of fact thing and we aren't already lying in his bed together.

Most of the people who know me think I'm not scared of anything, but the truth is, I am. Love is the scariest thing I can think of. I saw how lifeless my mother became after my father died, and I think that's part of the reason why I've never let myself define things with Gale. Love has the ability to crush you. But Peeta just puts himself right out there. He might just be the bravest person I've ever met, and that frightens me a little.

I don't know what to say, but I suddenly get this picture in my mind of Peeta jerking off to the sound of Gale and I going at it. The mental image makes me giggle nervously.

"What?" Peeta asks, mimicking my voice from earlier. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"Just… shut up and go to sleep. Doctor's orders," I say. There's no way that I'm about to tell him what just ran through my mind, even if the thought does kind of thrill me. I press my thighs together and shake it off. Peeta bundles me in closer to him. I sigh heavily and deflate against his chest.

"Comfy?"

"Very."

"Me too. Thanks for staying, Dr. Everdeen," he murmurs into the top of my head.

"Yeah, yeah," I sigh, as if it's a huge sacrifice. But I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

When Gale returns from the holiday weekend he comes to the quad immediately, bearing all sorts of goodies from home. First he drops a heavy bag of leftovers on the kitchen table – more turkey, potatoes and pumpkin pie than one person could ever eat – along with a packet of herbal tea from my mother.

_Katniss,_ reads the attached note. _Steep for 4-6 minutes and sip slowly to settle your stomach. Love you lots, Mom._

Huh. I do find it kind of odd that she would send back so much food if she knew that I needed the stomach tea. Oh well.

Gale also brings a paper bag turkey with lopsided googly eyes - a holiday craft made especially for me by his little sister, Posy. It makes me laugh.

"And Prim made this eggnog cheesecake," he raves. "She says she's never made one before, but it was pretty amazing. Sorry, there weren't any leftovers of that. You missed out."

"I bet you're just saying that because you ate my piece on the train back," I tease. Gale grins, tugging on my braid.

"Guilty as charged. Prim wants you to call her, by the way. She missed you."

"Okay," I say, smiling as I wonder who my little sister has a crush on this time._Call me_ has recently become code for _I want to talk about boys._

"You're in an awfully good mood," Gale comments, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. "I'm glad you're better. We all missed you, Catnip. Me especially." He's just leaning in to plant a soft kiss on my mouth when Peeta wanders into the kitchen.

"Cute," he comments, pointing to Posy's turkey as he opens the fridge.

"Peet, my mom sent back a lot of _actual_ turkey if you're hungry. Help yourself," he says, glancing in my direction.

That one, tiny look would seem insignificant to anyone else, but I know Gale well enough that it clues me in – he planned on giving those leftovers to Peeta all along. It explains everything. Maybe it's because he feels bad that Peeta has no family to welcome him home for the holidays, when family has been so important to the both of us. Or maybe it's some sort of thank you for staying with me while I was sick. Either way, it was done on purpose. Gale might be headstrong and temperamental, but no one could ever accuse him of being imperceptive. He's always looking out for the people he cares about. And the people that he knows I care about.

At that moment, I clasp his face in my hands and lean in to complete the kiss we had started.

That night as I ride him slowly, I don't press my face into his shoulder to muffle the sounds he drives from me. I plant my hands on his chest, rolling my hips as I slide up and down his length. Every so often I lean over and tickle his chest with my long hair, planting soft, warm kisses along his collarbone, his jaw, his lips. Gale's moan rumbles deep in the back of his throat. He slides his hands up my back and pulls me down, pressing our chests together.

"Good?" I whisper. He nods, eyes squeezed shut. He then reaches blindly over to my bedside drawer and rifles around through its contents.

"What are you doing?" I ask softly, though I know exactly what he's doing as soon as I feel his hands fumbling behind my back, followed by a telltale buzzing sound. A shiver runs through me as Gale touches the vibrator to my spine and traces it down the cleft of my ass. "Ah," I gasp softly, the sensation making my hips snap. Gale's hand covers the back of my head as he draws me back down for another teasing kiss, continuing to drive steadily upwards into me, over and over.

"How about you?" he murmurs when our lips break apart. He presses the tip of the buzzing toy against my tightened flesh. "Good?"

"Yes," I exhale, drawing the word out in one long breath and nodding wildly. I pick up the pace, squeezing him between my thighs. We've done this plenty of times before and he knows what I like. "Keep going," I encourage him.

A second later, he wraps one big arm around my waist and flips me over, withdrawing from my body and sitting up between my legs. I whine at the loss until the tickling buzz suddenly returns, tracing teasing little patterns along my inner thighs. Then there's another sensation being added to the mix, heightening my excitement. Wet, warm kisses forging a trail down my stomach. Gale's hot breath on my skin. The brush of his lips against my mound. Then his whole mouth opens against me and his tongue parts the slit between my legs, dipping into the wetness there. His lips close around my clit at the same moment that he guides the vibrator back into my pussy. The action turns loose a shock of breath from my lungs.

"Gale," I gasp, chest heaving. I reach down to squeeze a handful of his dark hair. His responding groan hums against my skin, matching the vibration inside, merging the two sensations into one. It feels like I'm melting into the mattress. I turn my face sideways into the pillow and cry out raggedly as my body jerks in pleasure.

The next thing I know, Gale is pressed to my side, pulling at my hip to maneuver my body back on top of his. Breathless, I plant my palms on his chest once again just as he pulls the vibrator out and fills me with his cock instead. "Oh," I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut at the shift. The little toy only plays one note, whereas Gale's body is skilled and dynamic.

"Come here," he breathes roughly, hooking his arm around my waist and guiding me down flat against his torso once more. He slips his other arm behind my thigh. This time when the vibrator traces my ass, it's slick and wet from being buried in my pussy just moments earlier. With a bit of pressure, the tip easily enters me. I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a loud moan at the delicious fullness that follows.

"Yes," Gale keeps whispering into my ear as he sinks it in a little deeper, thrusting his hips gently to match. "Tell me how it feels."

"So, so good. I can feel you even more. Don't stop, please… please, ah—I'm gonna come," is all I manage to whimper before losing control. I'm so worked up that it happens quickly. Gale growls beneath me and increases the pace of his thrusts, reducing me to a quivering, moaning mess atop him as I surge towards climax.

Afterwards, he falls asleep almost instantly. I lie awake, exhausted and sandwiched between his hot, heavy body and the thin wall that separates my bed from Peeta's. It surprises me how much the thought of him lying there, alone, actually bothers me.

I wonder if he was listening.

I kind of hope he was.

Out of curiosity, I softly rap my knuckles against the wall, just as I saw him do the night I slept in his room. When there's no response, I figure he must be asleep. I sigh and nestle down into my pillow a little more. Gale's breathing is even and hypnotic, lulling me to sleep.

I'm just starting to drift off when it comes. Four soft taps that I would've missed if I hadn't been lying perfectly still.

He's there. He heard.

I grin stupidly into the dark.

I don't feel dirty. I feel something else. Something like contentment, with Gale's warmth at my back and Peeta lying just a few inches away, hopefully just as satisfied as we are.

If only we weren't separated by a wall.


	3. Chapter 3: Revelations

**Chapter 3: Revelations**

The next morning, while Gale is still asleep in my bed, I wrap myself in my blanket and venture into the kitchen. There I find Peeta, kneading bread dough. He's slapping it against the floured countertop with heavy, rhythmic strokes and there are dark circles under his eyes.

I'm curious about what he thought of last night, but I don't know how to approach it. Instead, I walk over to the fridge and pour myself a glass of milk, even though I'm not thirsty, hoping that he'll say something first. After all, Peeta always knows exactly what to say. I watch as he plops the dough into a bowl and covers it with a towel, seemingly unaware of my presence just a few feet away. Finally, he glances up from his work and I give him a shy smile. He returns it, but with sad eyes.

"G'morning," Peeta murmurs, placing the dough aside so it can rise. He then retreats into his bedroom without uttering another word.

I'm left standing alone in the kitchen, puzzled and feeling a little bruised by the whole thing. Gale emerges from my room a moment later, pulling his shirt on as he walks towards me.

"I have to go home and print that paper I was working on. It's due at noon."

"But it's only seven… seven something."

"I still need to edit and format, Catnip." He tilts my chin up and gives me a peck on the lips before pulling on his boots and silently slipping out the door. I wrap my blanket tighter around my naked body, feeling doubly rejected, and slouch against the kitchen counter. In the process, I forget that Peeta's preheating the oven and end up burning my leg against the metal door.

"Ow!" I hiss, grabbing the back of my thigh. I've only been awake for ten minutes and already the day has gone to hell. "Oh, fuck it," I finally mutter, stomping back to my room, not even caring if I wake up Orin or Nerissa. The only solution to a bad day is to go back to bed.

* * *

It's almost one o'clock when I'm disturbed by a knock at my door.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice calls through the barrier. When I don't answer, he knocks again. "Hey, are you in there?"

I mutter something grouchy in response and curl up tighter under the blankets.

"Are you okay? I got worried when you didn't show up to tutorial. Then Gale texted me to see if I knew why you weren't answering your phone."

"I turned it off," I finally groan. I don't bother to explain that he and Gale are part of the reason why I'm hiding from the world today.

"Can I come in?" Peeta doesn't wait for my permission before cautiously cracking the door and slinking in, closing it gently behind him. I sit up, profoundly irritated by the intrusion, and turn my phone back on with an exaggerated flourish.

"There. Happy?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're scowling."

"Am not."

"Did you and your boyfriend have another fight?" Peeta asks casually. I feel my cheeks begin to burn.

"He's not my boyfriend!" I snap. And it's true. I care deeply about Gale, but there is no label on our relationship that binds me to him. The only person who I really let myself belong to is Prim.

"Sure sounded like he was your boyfriend last night," Peeta counters, placing a plate down on my desk without meeting my eye. I hadn't noticed him carrying it in, but it's holding my favorite – grilled cheese. He cooks the bread to golden perfection, whereas I always burn it. My stomach growls at the mouth-watering aroma, reminding me that I haven't eaten all day.

"Well he's not," I repeat, subdued. I look down at my bitten fingernails. "And we didn't fight."

"Then what's wrong?" Peeta repeats. He sits down in my desk chair and crosses his arms, making it clear that he's not handing over the sandwich until I speak. At that moment, I really do scowl. But doesn't seem to bother him, and a silent standoff ensues.

"I thought you liked it," I finally mumble, humiliated.

"What?"

"I thought you liked it," I repeat through gritted teeth, barely any louder. "Listening. To us. I thought you liked listening through the wall."

Peeta takes a moment before asking, "Do_ you_ like it?"

I don't answer. I just glare. He sighs.

"Of course I like it," he finally says. "I really, _really _like it. You think I don't?"

"Why did you walk away from me this morning?" I demand, suddenly angry. It's my turn for answers. "Huh? If you like it so much, how come you pretended like it never happened?"

"What? Katniss—"

"Tell me!"

Peeta's smile fades. He uncrosses his arms and clears his throat. "Alright, listen." He pauses for a second, looking down at his hands, then continues. "Katniss, I fantasize about you every day. _Every single day. _I dream about waking up to the smell of your skin, of what your lips would taste like, of how it would feel to be inside you."

I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that I'm still naked beneath these blankets. My nipples tighten.

"You think I don't like it?" he asks. "Hearing you come drives me _fucking crazy_. I come every time that you do! I stay awake, touching myself and replaying that sound in my head, again and again, trying to picture your face, your mouth, your body on top of mine… Still think I don't like it? Need to hear more?"

"Um," I start, but nothing else comes out. I feel a little lightheaded at Peeta's confession that he satisfies himself to what he hears. I guess that little mental image I had the other night wasn't so far off after all. The thought is incredibly sexy. _I stay awake, touching myself_…

"I don't just like it. I _love_ it," Peeta growls, suddenly sounding possessive. It's a side of him that I've never seen before. "I love it, I just can't _stand_ it. It makes me want to tear your fucking clothes off when I see you the next day. That's why I walked away! When you came into the kitchen only wearing that blanket, it took every ounce of my self-control not to rip it off and lay you down, right there, right across the table! I wouldn't even care if anyone walked in! I want you on my tongue, I want to make you scream _my_ name—"

"Peeta, stop," I breathe. I'm actually getting wet as he speaks, I can feel it. I twist the blanket in my fingers. "I understand now."

"I'm sorry."

"I… don't apologize," I say weakly, struggling for the right words.

"I know that Gale loves you and you love him, and I could never take that away from you. I wouldn't, because I care about you too much."

I'm so thrown off by his use of the word _love_ that I swiftly blurt out the only thing I can think of. "I like it too," I choke.

"What?"

"You asked if I like it. Before."

"And you do?"

I nod.

"I'd give anything to be the one making you feel that good," Peeta says huskily. We stare at each other rather wildly and for a crazy second I think that he's going to jump out of that chair, yank the blanket away from my trembling body and fuck me right then and there. Instead my phone starts ringing, interrupting everything. We both look over and read the screen at the same time. _GALE_, it shouts in bright yellow letters. I hesitate.

"Go ahead," Peeta says. "Answer it." But he doesn't sound possessive anymore. Just hollow.

Before I can protest, he's out the door.

I let the call go to voicemail.

* * *

Gale shows up later in the evening after I fail to return his messages.

"I brought you lamb stew," he says, holding up a bag with takeout containers inside. It's from _Cinna's_, one of the fanciest restaurants in town. He looks remorseful, passing the food over to me as a peace offering. It must be a wordless apology for leaving so abruptly that morning.

I don't say much, but after we've settled onto the couch with our dinner and Gale's put on a movie, he tenderly wraps his arm around me and draws my head down to rest on his shoulder. I sink into him and inhale his familiar, woodsy scent. Peeta's words are still echoing in my head. _Love. _Do I love Gale? He's practically an extension of my own body at this point. He can read me like a book with just one glance. With a surge of affection, I realize that Peeta is right. Of course I love Gale. So why am I still feeling so restless?

"Katniss? Did you hear me?"

"Hmm?" I sit up. Gale looks at me sadly.

"What's bothering you? You're a million miles away tonight."

"Oh. Nothing. Just something Peeta said earlier."

Gale studies my face for a moment, then pulls me tightly against his shoulder again. We've already returned to watching the movie when he murmurs, "You really like him, don't you?"

"I don't know," I shrug, still staring at the TV, but Gale's question causes a strange, queasy burning sensation in the pit of my stomach. I feel him sigh.

"I know you better than anyone, Katniss" he says, "And I can tell that you're falling for him. People don't get this preoccupied if they don't care about someone. And I'm not surprised. I mean, I can see why. He's good person—"

"Gale," I warn, before he can finish by saying _and I'm not._ I can practically feel the guilt radiating off of him.

"He told you that he loves you. That's what he said earlier, wasn't it?"

"Not... exactly," I admit. Gale shakes his head and looks away from me. His jaw clenches and unclenches.

"I should've told you how much you meant to me a long, long time ago. Now someone else has."

"What is this? What's happening?" I ask, sitting up. The way Gale is talking about things with such finality and defeat is scaring me. He's my best friend and I can't imagine life without him, but it sounds like he's giving up on us.

"Catnip," he says gently when he realizes he's upset me. He quickly draws me into his arms. "Don't cry, don't cry. I'm sorry."

"Are you leaving me?" I squeak into his shirt, clinging to it.

"No! …Do you want me to leave?" he asks cautiously. I look up to see that his grey eyes are wide and shiny. That's when I realize that he needs reassurance as much as I do.

"No," I echo. I swallow hard. "No. Because... I love you."

"Katniss," he whispers, his eyes darkening with desire. "I love you, too."

With that, Gale leans in and kisses me deeply. I continue holding onto him as we sink down onto the couch and he covers me with his body.

It's the first time we've said it, though it's long overdue. Ironically, if it weren't for Peeta, Gale and I never would've said anything and instead would've just kept having angry sex to avoid dealing with our feelings. And if it weren't for Gale reading my behavior, I wouldn't have realized that I was developing very real, very serious feelings for Peeta, too. That's why - when he strips me of my clothes and pushes me up against my bedroom wall, lifting one of my legs over his hip and entering me hard - I find the nerve to say, "And Peeta. Peeta, too."

Gale moans into my neck and squeezes my thigh, apparently spurred on by my words. "Yes," he grunts into my ear, thrusting furiously. "I know."

"Ah, um, y-yes?" I ask as I approach my climax. Did I hear that right? Gale's fingers slip down between our bodies, coming to rest on either side of my swollen, pink clit. He parts my folds to expose the sensitive bud to the friction of our moving bodies.

"Yes," he growls into my ear, his affirmation morphing into the mantra of our lovemaking. "Yes. _Yes._"

I turn my head to the side, breathing sharply, and imagine Peeta in the next room, pumping his length to the same pounding rhythm, gasping as his milky release spurts through his fingers. The mental image sends me over the edge. I scream and spasm against the wall, clinging to Gale's broad shoulders as I peak. He stills himself and grips my ass as my hips jerk uncontrollably. My orgasm is so intense that I gush and drip down his thighs.

"Holy shit, _holy shit_," Gale gasps, pausing to look down at where we're joined, then pumps into me with a few more wet strokes before his own release overtakes him. Afterwards, when our shaking legs give out and we collapse in a sweaty heap, he laughs a little in my ear. "Wow," he chuckles.

His laughter is a rare and beautiful sound.

Once he's asleep and snoring lightly, I slip out of bed and pad over to Peeta's room. Soundlessly, I open his door and make my way over to his sleeping form, lifting the edge of the covers so I can slide in beside him. It's only when he reaches behind himself and takes my hand that I realize he's still wide awake.

Without a word, Peeta rolls over and pulls me close by nestling me underneath his arm, just like he did when we were sick. His skin is still slightly damp with the afterglow of his own climax, and I can hear the steady thumping of his heartbeat through his chest. To my delight, he begins to play with my hair.

Drowsily, I feel my way up his neck, over his Adam's apple, along his jaw. When my fingertips graze his lips, I pause for a moment to feel his hot breath.

Then I replace my hand with my mouth, kissing him.


	4. Chapter 4: Caught Up To Speed

**Chapter 4: Caught Up To Speed**

My eyelids flutter open to find Gale standing next to Peeta's bed, looking down at our tangled bodies. The dim, grey light of early morning is just barely peeping through the blinds. Peeta is still asleep at my side, clutching me to himself almost carefully, as if I'll vanish if he holds me too tightly.

"I didn't mean to wake you. You looked so peaceful," Gale whispers. His expression is unreadable. I suspect he's not entirely comfortable seeing Peeta and I in each other's arms, but he doesn't exactly seem upset, either. For once I can't figure him out. Or maybe it's just that he hasn't quite figured it out for himself. "I have to get going, but I didn't want to leave without seeing you."

"So, so early," I murmur sleepily, but that's Gale. He sleeps like a log and wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to go, whereas both Peeta and I seem to be more restless. Except for when we fall asleep together, apparently.

He leans down to kiss my cheek, but I turn my head and capture his lips against my own. Trying not to disturb Peeta's slumber, I slowly reach up to touch Gale's face, keeping him close so his lips will linger as long as possible. I'm slightly surprised to find that instead of his usual morning stubble, his skin is smooth.

"I love you," I whisper when we part. With my eyes, I ask, _is that enough? If I'm not yours, but you still have my love, is it enough? _

The pad of his thumb brushes across the skin beneath my eye and then he leans in to kiss me again. That's how I know his response – just like it was last night – is still_yes_. In a way, it always has been. And it will always be _yes_, so long as I keep wanting it.

This time when Gale pulls away we both realize that Peeta has woken up. He's been languidly watching us kiss, just a few inches away from our faces. Suddenly, he zeros in on Gale's cheek.

"Did you use my razor?" he croaks.

Gale snorts and just rolls his eyes on his way out the door.

Once we're alone again, Peeta pulls me closer to him so that we're on our sides, facing each other. "Do I get one, too?" he asks playfully.

Before I can respond he snakes his hand behind my neck, up into my hair, and leans in to give me slow, sensual kiss. I sigh into his mouth, returning each gentle stroke of his tongue with one of my own. Peeta shifts closer to me, his hardness pressing into my thigh. But despite his present state of arousal, he seems content to patiently acquaint himself with each part of my body, mapping me like some newly discovered land.

"Is this even real?" he murmurs, smoothing his hands across my shoulders. "I was worried that when you came in last night it was just some wonderful dream."

"Nope," I tell him. "This is real."

"I never thought I'd get to touch you." His fingertips trace my eyebrows and the shell of my ear; the soft curve of my hip and the flat of my lower back. I feel the same curiosity about his form, running my finger down the bridge of his nose and smoothing my hands over the expanse of his chest. For a while we simply lie there, learning each other by touch.

"You're tiny," he grins when his hands circle my waist, squeezing.

"I could still take you, Mellark," I retort. But I'm instantly proven wrong when he flips me onto my back and pins my wrists to the bed. I can really feel him now, hard and hot through his pajama pants, right between my legs.

"I was a—"

"A wrestler in high school?" I cut him off. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

"So you_ did_ notice me," Peeta smiles. I feel myself blush, though I don't know why I should at this point. He's the one with his dick pressed against me, after all.

"Yeah. Well," I admit. He releases my wrists and nuzzles his cheek against my hot one.

"You should get flustered more often," he whispers into my ear. "It's a good look on you."

I grunt in protest and slide my hand down his bare back, slipping it under his waistband and grabbing his ass. If he wants to talk about being flustered, I'll show him flustered. I'll turn him into the very _definition_ of flustered. At my touch, Peeta moans and pushes his hips into mine, but traps my hand in his fist when I try to slide my fingers around to his front.

"Not yet. I want to try something that I've been thinking about for a while."

"Like what?" I mumble, hoping he'll start talking dirty to me like he did yesterday.

But Peeta doesn't answer. His mouth is already occupied with kissing my bellybutton, which is fine by me. He scoots down between my legs, dragging the blanket with him. I shiver as my skin meets the cool air and run my fingers through his soft, ruffled hair. His mouth reaches the edge of my shorts, and then he hooks his thumbs under the elastic and rolls them down. I actually lose my breath in anticipation.

Peeta sits back on his heels and peels the garment from my legs, one limb a time, hooking one of my knees over his shoulder as he tears my shorts from the other ankle and tosses them across the room. I help him out by pulling my shirt up over my head and tossing that to the floor as well. He pauses for a minute to look at me and I'm surprised by how completely comfortable I feel with his eyes on me. It seems so natural. It's when he begins to kiss his way up my inner thigh that I put my hand down to cover myself, suddenly remembering.

"I haven't showered. You know... since," I warn. Since Gale.

"Don't care," he mumbles into my skin, reaching his destination between my legs and nipping my fingertips to coax them aside. I relax and slowly begin to withdraw my hand when he suddenly grabs it and brings it back.

"Spread yourself open," he says. "Show me."

The request practically makes my jaw drop, but I love it. I love it. All my muscles clench in anticipation. I'm already so wet and he's so damn close...

"Please," Peeta adds, sensing my hesitation.

After a moment of nervousness, I press my fingers against my slit and then open them, revealing my most intimate part to his gaze. For some reason I squeeze my eyes shut, maybe to compensate for how exposed I feel below. Peeta's breath falls against my slippery skin, making me whimper and crave his mouth all the more.

"Open your eyes," he says next. I look down to see his face hovering over my thighs, arms wrapped around each one to hold them apart. "Now touch yourself, like you do when you're alone."

I moan and arch my back, actually feeling myself pulse and drip at his words. Peeta leans forward and catches the bead of moisture that rolls out of me with one flick of his tongue, forcing a loud gasp from my lungs, but he doesn't offer me any more, no matter how I lift my hips up towards him. Instead, he continues to hold my thighs apart and watches me writhe in need. I don't know how he can stand it. This game of his is driving me crazy.

"Peeta," I moan breathlessly. "_You_ touch me. I want you to."

That same wild, possessive look that I saw on his face the day before in my bedroom crosses his features. He sits up a little and I think he's about to take over, but then all he does is press his palm firmly over my hand, trapping my clit between my own fingers.

"Does that feel good?" he teases me.

"Ah," I whine, tilting my head back into the pillow and shuddering. When Peeta's hand begins to guide mine in slow, hard circles, I nearly lose it. "Peeta, Peeta," I pant, trying to contain the loud moans that are threatening to escape my lips. Peeta's bedroom is closer to the kitchen than mine and the clinking of our roommates' breakfast dishes can be heard through the door. "Please," I beg him in whispers as his movements quicken. "Please, stop. _Touch me_."

"Touch yourself," Peeta replies, taking his hand away and forcing my thighs wide open once more.

Wound up and unable to take it anymore, I dip one of my fingers inside my opening and then draw it back up to my clit, spreading the slick wetness. I then begin to rub myself in small, tight circles. I kind of want to do it all slow and sexy for him, but after about a second I lose control and my pace becomes frantic. Patience is not my strong suit. I no longer care about looking sexy. I just want to come.

"What are you thinking of?" Peeta demands. "Tell me."

"You. You," I gasp. "Your- Ah, I want-"

"Say it."

"Your cock, your _cock_, and I want you to fuck me!" I cry out, yearning upwards towards him. I'm a woman possessed at this point, spreading my legs as far apart as they'll go, inviting him to watch, furiously rubbing my soaking, throbbing, demanding pussy. Peeta has me saying things I never thought I'd say. "Please, Peeta, please!" I gasp, only now noticing that he's let go of my thighs and is sitting up, his own hand thrust down the front of his pants, jerking back and forth quickly. "Show me," I demand in return, desperately trying to keep my eyes open. "I want to see you come. I- _I want you_."

"Fuck," Peeta mutters under his breath, then shoves his pants down. For the first time I get a look at him. His hard, thick cock springs upward, glistening and red at the tip. And then he wraps his hand tightly around his shaft once again, pumping with these quick strokes that tell me his orgasm is imminent.

It's the look on his face as he touches himself that sends me over the edge, though - teeth gritted against the pleasure, his shoulders flexing and trembling, his eyes devouring me.

I brace my heel against the edge of the mattress and come, my working arm seizing up as my back arches and my legs shudder. I try to press my lips together to keep from crying out, but it only half works; "Peeta, Peeta," I still mew against the pillow.

"Katniss!" Peeta gasps in response, losing control. His free hand digs into my inner thigh and then his fingers suddenly plunge inside me. My head snaps upward at the new sensation and I groan, feeling myself start to peak for a second time before the first wave of pleasure has even really passed. In my delirium, I hear Peeta's clipped breathing and see his hand stutter on his length. A hot, white jet of semen shoots from cock and then drips from his knuckles, christening the sheets below us. Several more spurts follow, which I feel more than actually see. They pool on my stomach as he collapses above, catching himself with his arms so as not to crush me. Peeta chokes back a moan. He continues to twitch gently against my skin as his orgasm ebbs.

"Sorry," he says breathlessly afterwards, glancing down at the mess on my abdomen. But I just reach down and run my fingertips through his sticky release, then bring them to my lips in order to taste him. Peeta watches in awe as I suck my fingers and I give him an exhausted smile. "Damn," he moans, collapsing against my shoulder.

For a moment we just lie there, still gasping and tremoring slightly in each other's arms. Then I reach up and cup his face in my palm at the same time that he reaches to do the same to mine. We kiss softly but deeply before eventually rolling apart.

"Well that escalated quickly," Peeta mutters once he's caught his breath.

I burst out laughing.

"Where are you going?" he asks a moment later, when I swing my legs over the side of the bed, searching for something to cover myself with.

"Shower," I answer. But just as I stand, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back down.

"I'm not finished with you yet."

"So, what we just did wasn't the thing you've been wanting to do for a long time?"

"No. I just wanted to catch you up to speed. I've thought about you while touching myself, and now you've thought about me." He pins me down yet again. "Now where was I?" he muses, his breath hot against my breasts. He gives each pert nipple a wet kiss before moving back down between my thighs. "Oh, yeah. Right here."

And his head dips.


	5. Chapter 5: Friendly Competition

**Chapter 5: Friendly Competition**

One week later, I'm staring at my reflection in the mirror and seriously doubting my ability to juggle two relationships. I never even wanted one, and now I suddenly have two. _Two_. I've gnawed my fingernails down to stubs just thinking about it.

_But nothing has really changed, _I remind myself when I begin to worry about things like how to divide my time fairly between Peeta and Gale and still get my homework done. _You still had time for that when you were all just friends, so what's the difference now?_ _Stop making up problems in your head and just braid your stupid hair, Katniss._

But that's the other thing: my braid. My hair, my clothes. I never even thought about them before, and now I find myself wondering if something different is expected of me. Do I have to be sexy? I study my face in the mirror: full lips, thick eyebrows, the faintest spattering of freckles across my nose. Do I even know _how _to be sexy?

This whole girlfriend thing just doesn't come naturally to me.

I collapse onto my bed and conclude that I'm simply not built for relationships. Fucking, maybe. Fucking I can do. Not that Peeta would know. He _still _won't let me touch him, which is only adding fuel to my frustrations.

"It's not fair!" I protest, because_ he _touches me almost any chance he gets. In fact, he ends up with his head between my legs practically every time we have a break between classes. I've become very familiar with his soft blue sheets since spending the better part of an hour each afternoon scrunching them in my fists and biting them in an effort keep from screaming. Yet whenever I try to return the favor, he stubbornly refuses to let me.

"But I want to," I whimper. I want to so badly, it's driving me crazy.

"I know," he grins. "But not yet."

At first I think he's just denying me more because he wants to hear me beg for it. After that realization, the words practically fall out of my mouth. "Fuck me!" I pant when he cups my ass and lifts my hips right off the bed, devouring me like some delicious, ripe piece of fruit. "Ah- Please! I want you! Fuck me, Peeta!"

He slips one hand up my torso and strokes my breast, giving my nipple little pinches which make me jolt, but only briefly pulls his lips away to murmur, "Not yet."

So much for that theory.

After he's satisfied with how many times I've come – sometimes it's once, other times it's a rolling boil of one climax after another – he rises up above me and plants a wet kiss on my mouth. Tasting my own tangy musk on his lips awakens something feral in me; I can't help but thrust my hand down between us to feel his erection straining against the crotch of his pants. Peeta twitches against my palm and exhales hard, but only plucks my hand away and breaks our kiss to repeat, "No, Katniss. Not yet."

"Damn you," I mutter halfheartedly as he guides my limp legs back into my pants, but I'm too exhausted to really be angry. I let him cuddle me and play with my hair until I have to go to my next class.

You'd think that between two men I'd be the most satisfied woman at Panem University. But the reality is that Peeta's little game is only making me ravenous. And because he won't let me touch him, I end up taking it all out on Gale. I tear open the fly of his jeans and pull him into my mouth as soon as we're alone. I push him down onto my bed and straddle him, twice or sometimes even three times a night, just trying to quench the fire that rages inside of me.

"Easy, easy," Gale whispers when my fingernails start to cover his back and chest with red scratches. He tames me by clasping my hands in his own and rolling on top of me to slow our frantic pace. But being denied my orgasm at this point only unleashes a torrent of dirty words from my mouth – something I've picked up from Peeta, perhaps – and within seconds I've pulled Gale into the inferno, too. Afterwards, I'm grateful for his attempts at tenderness and a little ashamed of my own lack of it. I keep promising myself that I'll try to lavish him with the same worshipful patience that Peeta does me, but in the heat of the moment I always forget.

Like I said, I know fucking – not relationships.

And then there's times when I catch Gale wearing that same unreadable expression he had that morning he saw Peeta and I together, and it frightens me that I can't seem to figure him out anymore. What does it mean? Is he upset with our new arrangement? I never had a problem reading Gale before, but now…

_Stop thinking about it and just braid your stupid hair, Katniss._

* * *

We were supposed to go for a run together. Gale said he'd meet me after his last class, around four, but I was so busy putting the finishing touches on Prim's Christmas present - a recipe book that Peeta's been helping me put together - that I didn't even realize until 4:15 that Gale still hadn't shown up.

_Where are you?_ I text, pacing around the empty quad in my running gear. I tell myself that I'm eager to get going since it's getting dark - there are heavy, grey rain clouds gathering on the horizon. But deep, deep down, I do wonder if this is related to those funny, unreadable looks of his. Gale is rarely ever late. Maybe he's reconsidering this whole thing...

My phone buzzes with a text a minute later, but it's not him. It's Peeta.

_Come down to the lounge. Playing ping-pong._

Ugh. This is what I was worried about. How am I supposed to balance my time between these two? I'm about to write back to tell him that I can't when another text comes through.

_Gale's here. Coming?_

Huh?

When I walk in, the room is crackling with adrenaline. Peeta and Gale are in the middle of an intense game of ping-pong, ignoring the blaring T.V. in the corner. It's showing some Capitol program called _Quest for the Dress,_ in which women compete to win designer wedding gowns. The screen flickers to a close-up of faces caked with frosting and crumbs and lipstick as the announcers explain the cake-eating challenge. Nerissa loves this show, but I find it completely ridiculous. I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the ping-pong game instead.

It seems that Gale and Peeta have added new rules – playing with the wrong hand, circling the table and switching sides between shots – in order to make their game more challenging. And judging by the sweat on their foreheads, they've been playing for a while.

"Two bounces! Two bounces!" Peeta is laughing as Gale takes a left-handed swipe at the hollow, white ball. When it ricochets off the net only to fall to the floor with a pathetic _pat-pat_, he drops his paddle on the worn tabletop and steps back.

"I'm done!" he declares, raising his hands in defeat. Then he turns to me. "Peeta won. Can you believe it?"

"Strategy," Peeta shrugs, his cheeks ruddy from the activity. "Hey Katniss."

"Hey," I start to reply, but then Peeta makes a sudden move towards me and ends up so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his chest. His calloused fingers find that soft spot just below my earlobe. Time seems to slow, and I find myself holding my breath as he pulls me into himself.

And then he's kissing me. Soft. Warm. On the lips.

In front of Gale.

Peeta's bottom lip drags upwards over my own as he gently sucks at the cupid's bow of my mouth. I melt when his tongue dips between my lips, just briefly, before he finishes our kiss with a soft peck. A tingling sensation shoots right through me, right down to the spot between my legs. Damn him for doing that so easily.

When Peeta pulls away, my mouth seems to follow his and strands of my hair cling to his hand. "Victory kiss," he explains with a little smile, still breathless.

"Ready to go, Catnip?" Gale asks, as if nothing has just happened. For a split second, I think I see that same strange look flash across his features, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

"Uh, yeah," I answer. That smoldering kiss has left me a little lightheaded and some fresh air would be good. "Yeah, let's go. Wait, what about your books? You can't run with them."

"I'll take them upstairs and hold onto them for you," Peeta offers, throwing Gale's heavy backpack over his shoulder. "Enjoy your run," he adds, exiting the lounge.

Gale and I are left alone with the sounds of squealing _Quest for the Dress_contestants, who are now up to their eyeballs in lemon curd and buttercream.

"You were late because you were hanging out with Peeta?" I finally ask. And here I had been bracing myself for tension between them, not friendship.

"Yeah. I had to talk to him about something."

"Oh," I answer, trying to sound very cool about it, although I'm itching to know what they talked about. Something to do with me? Good? Bad? I don't know. Either way, Gale doesn't offer any more details. "Peeta won the game," is all I end up saying, very matter-of-fact. He certainly did win. I'm still tingling from that electric victory kiss.

"Yeah, well. I like a little friendly competition," answers Gale.

* * *

At first, the exercise is energizing. Gale and I have been running together for years, and there's something especially comforting about the steady rhythm of his feet on the pavement next to mine. The street lamps begin to flicker on around us as it grows darker, and our breath hangs clouds on the crisp autumn air. Then the first few drops of rain begin to fall. "This is kind of refreshing," I say optimistically. I'm always a little more optimistic after a good workout.

"So refreshing!" Gale teases a minute later when sheets of icy rain begin to blind us. He grins at his joke and I cast him a withering look, but I admit defeat as soon as flash of lightning illuminates the sky. We decide to take shelter at his apartment, which is closer than the campus is at this point.

Gale's place is a shoebox - one bare, narrow room with a dimly lit kitchenette at one end and a dirt-smeared window at the other. It's only one of many units in the crumbling apartment block, where almost everything is leaking, flickering or otherwise falling apart. But it's all he can afford.

Our families each received a lump sum of money from the government after our fathers died, but while it's been enough for me to afford on-campus housing, it's had to stretch further between Gale and his three younger siblings. Obviously, it doesn't stretch far. His apartment contains little besides what it came furnished with – a bed, some yellowed curtains and a mismatched set of used dishes. That's why we almost always hang out at my place instead. But Gale's apartment does have one thing my quad doesn't - privacy. So as soon as the door closes behind us, we shuck off our wet clothes and make a naked beeline for the shower. After a violent hammering of the old pipes, the nozzle begins to sputter, releasing a steady drizzle of cold water.

"Oh, good. The boiler's working again," Gale mutters sarcastically while we shiver. If the water's even going to get hot, it'll take a few minutes to find out. I hug my arms to my chest and dance from foot to foot to keep warm.

"So. Hanging out with Peeta," I repeat, gathering up the courage to ask what's been on my mind, though I'm a little scared of what the answer will be. I swallow hard. "What were you guys talking about?"

"You know. Friendly competition," is all Gale says.

I narrow my eyes at him. _Friendly competition_. Surely he's not talking about ping-pong. But before I can say anything more his lips are pressed against mine and he's pulling me into the shower. It's only lukewarm, but it's hard to concentrate on that once Gale's lips are fused to my neck. I exhale softly and run my hands down his slippery back, relishing the indentation of each muscle. His kisses wander down to my breasts as he backs me up against the shower wall. The contrast between the warm suction of his mouth on my skin and the chill of the tile at my back pulls a small gasp from my lungs.

"Um... friendly competition? What do you mean?" I ask shakily as he swirls his tongue against my nipple. Gale's hands tighten on my waist, drawing our hips together. His cock has grown hard, and is growing harder still as he rubs against me. I close my eyes as I feel his fingers climb up my ribs and tickle the swell of my breasts. "Gale?" I exhale, before I lose track of my question completely. I need to know.

"What I mean," Gale finally begins to explain between kisses, "is that I thought I'd be jealous." He moves my hair aside to kiss my neck once more. "But when I saw you together, in his bed... It didn't bother me like I thought it would. I guess I was surprised by how... _normal_ it was. It wasn't weird. I figured he'd understand."

Of course Peeta would understand. He's used to hearing Gale and I through the wall, and he doesn't find it weird. He likes it.

And that's when it really hits me: Gale _likes_ it. Seeing me and Peeta together. It feeds into his competitive nature. It's a turn-on. That unreadable look of his that's been confusing me so much has been his surprise at actually _liking_ it.

Without saying anything, Gale unhooks the showerhead, turns me to face the wall, and prepares me for a thorough explanation of _friendly competition_.

"Tell me what Peeta does to you," he growls into my ear, pressing his chest to my back and tightening one strong arm around my waist. I rest my cheek against the tile and gasp as he directs the steady spray of water towards the cleft between my legs. "The last time you were together. What did he do to you?"

Peeta and I had been together just that afternoon. I'd been studying for my Earth Sciences final in a library cubicle when he'd knelt down, right there at my desk chair, and pulled off my panties.

_"Peeta!" I hiss, watching him roll the flimsy garment down my thighs. Sure, we are surrounded by shelves and shelves of books, and the cubicles in our area are all vacant – except for one guy wearing headphones down at the far end – but still. "Someone might catch us!"_

_"Then I'd better be quick," he whispers back, skipping the little kisses he usually places on my inner thighs and ducking his head beneath my skirt._

"He went down on me. In the library," I choke out as Gale gently thrusts against my backside. At this, he swears under his breath and presses the showerhead right into my folds. I gasp again, and more words tumble out. "He- he had to hold my legs down to keep me still when he used his tongue. Ah- Gale," I moan, because he's now moving the gushing nozzle in hard little circles. I can barely form words any more. "I like that. Don't stop."

"And did you come? From his tongue?" Gale breathes into my ear, kissing it. He continues to thrust gently against my ass. Being sandwiched between his hot body and the freezing shower wall is sweet torture.

_"Shhh," Peeta whispers, holding my shaking knees apart. He lifts my skirt just enough so I can see, then dives back in, lapping at me, swirling his tongue, sucking, flicking, layering different sensations on top of one another until I'm swelling like one of the ocean waves I had just been reading about in my Earth Science textbook. I bite my lips, but nothing can contain the soft, wet sounds of Peeta's mouth on me._

_"Yes!" I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut and dropping my head a little. I can feel the wave starting to crest._

_"Shhh," Peeta says urgently, hot breath blowing across my skin. But I don't care anymore. He could fuck me right on this desk and everyone could hear and I wouldn't care. I weave both hands into his blonde hair and push him back down between my legs, holding his face there and bucking against his tongue and chin as I come._

_"_Yes!" I groan loudly. "Yes, he made me come!" But Gale has stopped moving and has pulled the showerhead away in order to tease a lengthier response out of me. "Yes, yes, he made me come! It was- I was so wet, it was dripping all down his chin. Keep going!"

"I would've liked to see that," Gale moans, thrusting against my ass once more, though he continues to withhold the stream of water from my aching clit. "Did he fuck you afterwards?"

I shake my head. "No," I manage to say. "No, he- touched himself while his mouth was still on me."

_Peeta makes a small, muffled noise and presses his mouth and nose right into me. I grab the arms of the chair to keep myself from collapsing on him, but even after I've released his head, he refuses to pull away; he clings to my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the seat, devouring me with renewed zeal._

_"Shit! Peeta!" I squeak, glancing around to make sure no one has heard us. The guy in the cubicle at the end is still bobbing along to whatever's playing in his headphones, oblivious to what's going on beneath my desk. That's when I hear the telltale sound of a zipper descending and look down to see Peeta's shoulder moving. His breathing picks up as he strokes himself, eyes closed, lips and tongue still buried between my legs._

_A squeal starts to bubble up in my throat. In my efforts to maintain some composure, my limbs jerk and I accidentally knock all my paperwork to the floor._

"But you _want_ him to fuck you, don't you?" Gale hisses, pulling me back to reality. He's let go of the shower nozzle and it's bouncing against the side of the tub, propelled by it's own spray. Gale has me pinned to the tile wall. He wraps his fist around his length and angles my hips so he can trace himself along my slit from behind, up and down. "Jesus, you're wet. You must want him badly."

"Gale!" I whimper into the tile, my hips rocking in response to his touch. I can't take it anymore. I reach behind me, searching for his hand, his cock, anything to provide relief. "Yes, I want it. I want both of you. I want you to fuck me, I want Peeta to- ah!"

I suppose he figures he's explained _friendly competition_ enough, because at that moment he slides into me with a possessive, animalistic groan. The feeling of being filled up makes my knees quiver, and when he hits the deepest spot within me I really do squeal, just like I had been trying not to in the library. Each hard stroke of his creates an almost painful friction between my breasts and the cold tile wall. My nipples are achingly hard. I can't help but moan, watching Gale over my shoulder. He's got that look on his face, the one that tells me that he _likes hearing about me and Peeta. _He likes it. They both like it.

_Oh god._

"Oh god," Gale exhales in disbelief, as if reading my mind. He looks down to where we're connected. "You're so warm..." I arch my back and wrap my hand around behind his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Gale hooks his forearm around my hips once more, spreads me with his fingers, and unexpectedly presses the gushing showerhead right against my needy, throbbing clit.

"Oh!" I cry into his mouth. The water has gone ice cold.

The memory of Peeta's warm tongue as the freezing water rushes down my thighs and the cold tile teasing my nipples as Gale thrusts into me all become too much to handle. They swirl together in my mind, merging into one sensation, culminating in a mind-shattering orgasm that tears through my body.

The water may be cold, but it's the hottest thing I've ever experienced.

Gale and I stay at his place that night, spooning together under his thin blanket to the sound of thunder somewhere in the distance, discussing what we'll do when we go home for Christmas break. Of course our families will have a big dinner together, and it doesn't even need to be said that Peeta is welcome to join us. Gale immediately wonders if he'll be able to score some breadcrumbs from the bakery so that we can make stuffing.

I fall asleep that night feeling just a little more content, knowing that Gale and I are the same as we've always been. I can still read him after all; he still knows me. He and Peeta and I are all still friends. Everything's okay.

Maybe I can do this relationship thing after all.

Only one thing keeps bothering me - why won't Peeta let me touch him?


	6. Chapter 6: A Different Sort of Game

** Chapter 6: A Different Sort of Game**

On the last day of exam week, the sophomore residence holds a winter formal called the Snow Ball.

_The 74th Annual Snow Ball_, to be precise. Original, I know.

It's not really much of anything – just the downstairs lounge decorated with lights and candles – but it's an excuse for everyone to get dressed up and celebrate the end of the semester before heading home for the winter break.

"So… you're going with Peeta?" Nerissa asks as she sweeps my hair back and starts to secure it with tiny pins.

Last week she'd gone crazy over a fancy braided hairstyle in her favorite magazine, and I'd offhandedly commented that I'd done Prim's hair like that a thousand times before. The truth was, I hadn't. But Nerissa held me to my brag, and that's how I got trapped into doing her hair for the formal. And after three hours of struggling with her thick, blonde mane – I just hadn't counted on there being so _much_of it – I was too worn out to refuse her return offer to style my hair as well.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," is all I answer, watching her fingers methodically twist and pin each lock. She knows very well that Peeta and I are both attending the Snow Ball; everyone in our residence is going. She's just bringing it up because she wants to have girl talk.

I, on the other hand, do not want to have girl talk. Prim is the only person in the world who I actually feel comfortable having girl talk with.

"That looks great," I say, redirecting the conversation, "and I love what you did with the eye shadow." And I have to admit, I really do. After I'd completed Nerissa's braid, she'd insisted on coating my eyelids with this gravity-defying charcoal dust that looked like smoke in a jar. She applied it in the same, smudgey way that she'd painted her own eyes, minus the shimmery gold and green accents meant to compliment her gown – a sparkling, skin-toned thing that melts into a flowing green wave at the hip. The only thing I have to wear is a simple black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline, but my newly smoldering eyes and sophisticated hairdo give off the impression that it's much sexier than it really is.

Nerissa, however, completely ignores my change of subject. "Aw, you and Peeta!" she croons. "That's so cute! And what are the odds that you'd be assigned the same quad _and_ be from the same district? Mason is from Two, and I won't even see him again until next semester. You're so lucky, getting to spend the holidays with your boyfriend!"

I cringe inwardly. _Boyfriend._ Something about the word doesn't sit well with me. We've never used it – not Peeta and I, not Gale and I, none of us. It just doesn't describe what we have. _Boyfriend_ is the kind of word that makes me feel like I ought be doodling kittens and hearts in the margins of my notebooks every time I say it.

"He's not my boyfriend," I correct, as politely as I can.

"Oh! So you're still with Gale? See, that's what I thought! I knew Orin was wrong…"

"Um," I begin. _They've talked about us?_ I choose my words carefully. "Gale isn't my boyfriend either."

"Oh," she says lightly, masking her confusion with a little smile. "Sorry. I didn't realize you two broke up. When did that happen?"

"We didn't – we were never – " I'm not entirely sure how to describe our situation to her when I barely understand it, myself. "I mean, I guess I'm… _seeing_ him, if you want to call it that."

"But you're going to the Snow Ball with Peeta," Nerissa points out, as if I haven't noticed.

I grit my teeth.

"Yeah, well, I'm _seeing_ him, too."

"Both of them?"

"Yes."

"And… they know about each other?" she asks tentatively.

"Yes. They know."

Nerissa's eyebrows shoot up, but she says nothing. At first I think she's dropped the subject. But then she lowers her voice and, with ravenous sort of curiosity, asks, "So... who do you like more – Peeta or Gale?"

I just stare at her.

It's never even occurred to me to rank them against each other like that. Maybe comparing them would've been possible at first, in the early stages of our relationship, but at this point I can't even imagine how things would've worked out with Gale if I didn't have Peeta, or how I'd be with Peeta today if I didn't also have Gale.

I wish I could explain to her that, if anything, I see them like the contrasting colors Peeta uses in his paintings. _See, putting the red next to the green makes both colors seem brighter,_ he'd explained to me one afternoon, after I'd come across Goethe's color wheel in his theory textbook. The colors were direct opposites of each other on the wheel, but that had only made them seem more vibrant once they were placed side-by-side. _Big companies use that trick to make their logos stand out._

Peeta and Gale are like that when they're together, like the red and green, clashing and vibrant. They're different and beautiful and no less so as individuals; but put them together and they bring each other out even more.

"It's not like that," is all I manage to say to Nerissa.

"Oh, yeah, of course," agrees brightly. "I completely understand. Everyone thinks Gale is just gorgeous, and Peeta is pretty much the sweetest guy in Panem. I mean, they're both great guys, obviously."

Wait. Hold on. _Everyone_ thinks Gale is gorgeous? Who is_ everyone_? I suddenly get a jolt of hot, jealous anger towards these phantom women who are lusting after Gale. But Nerissa, oblivious to my irritation, just sprays something on my hair until it's glossy as an oil slick and chatters on. "So, I totally get it, but I mean, who's the first one you think of? Honestly. If you absolutely _had_ to pick just one, who would it be?"

"Both," I answer flatly. She doesn't seem to understand that taking any one of us out of the equation would cause the whole relationship to fall apart.

"Well, okay, fine," she concedes, obviously dissatisfied with my answer. "But who would you rather have as a boyfriend?"

"Neither."

Nerissa rolls her eyes and giggles uncomfortably. "Well, you have to choose one eventually!"

"Do I?"

This causes her to pause and stare at me in the mirror. For a second she looks almost frightened. It's then that I realize she's not trying to be dense or annoying – she truly doesn't get it, and she probably never will. I actually kind of feel sorry for her.

Finally, Nerissa's face breaks into a wide smile.

"Oh Katniss! You're so funny!" she laughs, as if I've just told a great joke.

I immediately make sure to ask her some question about her date, which gets her talking non-stop for the next twenty minutes. For once, I'm relieved to just sit and listen.

* * *

The first thing that I notice when I walk into the lounge is that everything is decorated in red and green.

From that second onward, all I can think about is Peeta and Gale and how much I'd rather be celebrating the end of the semester with them - alone - instead of tripping over my own heels and being bumped into by half-drunk sophomores at every turn. If it were just us, we could grab some take out, or maybe just cuddle up and watch a Christmas movie together. Or we could bake a batch of sugar cookies like we did a few nights ago – only with more eating and less fighting.

I'd come home from the library to find Peeta helping Gale make cookies as a Christmas gift for Hazelle and the kids. Figuring I'd earned a study break, I rolled up my sleeves to frost the last of the batch and help eat up all the leftover bits of dough. That's when Peeta scooped up a blob of icing on his finger and leaned over to dab it playfully on the tip of my nose. But I'd moved at the same time, and he ended up poking me in the eye, which made Gale double over laughing. And before I could think twice, I'd grabbed a huge palmful of icing and glopped it right across Gale's cheek to shut him up.

I don't think any of us expected me to actually plunge my hand into the mixing bowl and do that, including myself. It seemed so wasteful. But both Gale and Peeta's expressions were so priceless in the moment afterwards that I couldn't stop this giddy laughter from bubbling out of my mouth. Soon, we'd all lost it. I leaned over to paint a nice streak of icing right down the middle of Peeta's face, but not before Gale had smeared a handful into my hair. And when I mashed Peeta in the ear, they both teamed up and shoved the dirty spatula down my shirt. The only reason our battle came to a sober armistice was because Orin Teevee threw open his bedroom door and told us to shut up because he had an exam early the next morning.

I smile to myself remembering it – I'd had to shampoo my hair three times before bed that night.

"Hey Katniss!" Nerissa waves as she walks by with her boyfriend and another couple. "Hey Peeta!" She gives us a wink, at which the other girl – a six-foot blonde – breaks into a drunken giggle.

I recognize her from our English tutorial. Glimmer Something. She leans heavily on her boyfriend's arm as they saunter away.

"Let's dance," suggests Peeta, pulling me over to the makeshift dance floor just as the song changes. "What the hell was that about?" he wonders, leaning in close to my ear in order to be heard over the music.

"I don't know," I answer, because I don't. Though I suspect it had something to do with the discussion Nerissa and I had earlier. "Peeta, do your friends ask questions about us?" I ask abruptly.

"Some of them."

"And what do you say? I mean, what do you call... _us_?"

Peeta knows without needing an explanation that "us" includes Gale.

"I just tell them that we're together." He shrugs. "Most people don't understand it, but I'm not about to let that change me or who I care about. What do you call _us_?"

That's when it occurs to me that there might be two types of people in the world: people like Nerissa, who enjoy gameshows like _Quest for the Dress_ and believe that soulmates come in pairs. And then there are people like Peeta and Gale and I, who'd rather invent our own games.

"I think _together_ is perfect," I tell him. Leave it to Peeta to know exactly what to say. "Hey! Did you know that we're dancing right where the ping-pong table used to be?"

"Really?" Peeta grins.

"Yup."

I stand up on tiptoe to give him my own version of a victory kiss. But then _Buy Me Diamonds For Christmas_ starts to play for the third time, and a group of girls let out a collective squeal as they invade the dance floor. We both wrinkle our noses at the same time.

"I hate this song," he says. "Do you want to get out of here? Call Gale, maybe?"

"You read my mind. But Gale's writing his last exam right now." I pluck off my heels as we make our escape towards the elevator.

"Oh right. A Friday-nighter. That's just cruel."

"Cruel and unusual," I agree. Gale's exam lasts until ten, and then three of us are taking the 'red-eye' train back to District Twelve – midnight tickets are the cheapest you can get at this time of year. "So I guess we'll just have to find some other way to amuse ourselves."

"Hmm... what can we do with an empty quad all to ourselves?" Peeta wonders mischievously, backing me into the corner of the elevator and pressing his lips softly against mine. It isn't until that moment that I realize just how tightly wound I've been. I melt against him. By the time we reach our floor, my dress has been scrunched down to my waist and his palms are cupping my breasts. Luckily, there's literally no one in sight. Half naked, I grab Peeta by his tie and playfully pull him through the hallway.

"Take this off," I instruct once we're inside. He obliges without ceasing to kiss me, throwing his tie to the side. I start to unbutton his dress shirt, but he grabs my wrists before I can complete the task.

"My room," Peeta mumbles into my mouth. "Now."

"We have the whole place," I mumble back between kisses.

"No. I like having you in my bed. You make the sheets smell good." He edges me through the doorway and pushes me down onto his mattress, covering me with his body. The room is dark, except for the glow of the hallway light spilling through the open door, but I can still make out that wild look on his face. He begins to tug my dress off my hips, then pauses, clutching a handful of the black fabric. "Wait. Have I told you how beautiful you look in this?"

"Yes."

"Good." He yanks it off, and that's the last I see of it.

Peeta pins my arms above my head and begins to scatter hot, wet kisses across my bare breasts. "Oh, it's been too long," I shiver, relieved to have his lips against my skin once more.

"Three days," he corrects while teasing my nipple with his teeth.

"Mm… shut up. Kiss me."

Peeta does, rising up above me. He strokes my nylon-clad thigh and pushes it aside to move in closer. "Ouch," I hiss as something sharp digs into my hip. "Your belt."

"Sorry."

I hear a jingle and the hiss of leather against fabric as he whips it off, and it, too, disappears somewhere over the edge of the bed. Then Peeta picks up where he left off, lapping at my neck. He slides one hand down the flat of my stomach and underneath the waistband of my pantyhose. All of a sudden, he freezes.

"You're not wearing underwear," he says in surprise, looking down to confirm this discovery.

"Mhm."

"And you shaved everything?"

"Yeah..."

"Jesus…"

Peeta's eyes lock on mine as his fingers experimentally graze my bare skin. The only sound in the room is our heavy, clipped breathing.

"Am I very wet?" I whisper, so quiet it's almost inaudible.

His pupils dilate, and he nods. Then he sinks one thick finger into me, right up to his knuckle. My back bows and all at once I can't breathe. Before he even has the chance to peel off my nylons to give himself more room to work with, I'm rocking my hips and clinging to his wrist as I rapidly approach my climax.

"I'm close," I gasp.

"Jesus," he repeats, watching my face as he pumps his finger in a firm counterpoint to my thrusts. And when I flutter and come beneath him in what is probably record time, he gasps, "Oh,_ fuck_, Katniss!"

"I told you it's been too long," I whimper. "Kiss me again." And he does.

"More?" Peeta asks when our lips break apart. His finger is still sheathed inside of me, moving slowly.

"Yeah, yes," I nod breathlessly, reaching down to massage his erection through his pants. More. _Finally_. It's about time he let me touch him. I've been wanting _more_ for so long. "Yes," I exhale blissfully, drawing out the word as I rub him through the fabric.

"Katniss," he chokes as he thrusts involuntarily against my palm. "That's not what I meant – _oh_ -" His eyelids flutter closed. My fingers pop the button, find the zipper, feel the soft fabric of his boxer-briefs beneath, the wet tip of his cock as it pops out –

Peeta's eyes snap open. He catches my wrist and pries my hand away, but I just hungrily lift my fingers to my mouth and lick his salt from them.

"Shit," he says very quietly.

Then he rips – literally _rips_ – my pantyhose off.

"Peeta!" I cry, the sheer force lifting my whole lower half right off the bed. The thin material is shredded in an instant, leaving my thighs completely exposed. Peeta knocks my knee aside and leans in; cool air invades me as he spreads my folds and gives the spot between my legs a slow, wet kiss. The dizzying sensation briefly distracts me – "Peeta," I think I repeat – and then there's more ripping. The next thing I know, I'm facedown on the mattress and he's using my torn nylons to bind my wrists together behind my back. "Oof- what are you doing?" I ask, but I'm too intrigued to think of struggling. Then the reality of the situation hits me, and I sputter out the first words that come to mind:

"You're going to buy me new nylons, right?"

Peeta had been leaning in to kiss the back of my neck, but at that his head collapses on my shoulder and he starts chuckling. Then it evolves into full-blown, uncontrolled laughter which shakes the whole bed. Despite my embarrassment, I can't help but start to giggle, too.

"Did I ruin the mood?" I ask sheepishly, turning my head to the side so I can see him. It seemed like things had been going somewhere good until I'd opened my mouth and blurted out the most unromantic thing in the world.

"No," Peeta reassures me, but he only laughs harder. "Maybe."

"Are you still going to... y'know, fuck me?" I pout. His laughter subsides and he leans in to kiss the side of mouth, soft and gentle.

"No, and for the record, I never was," he murmurs. "_This,_" he tugs on my restraints, "was just to stop you from rushing ahead. Be patient."

"I can still be patient if you untie me," I offer innocently.

"You're a terrible liar, Katniss."

"I know."

I'm about to ask why we even need to keep playing this stupid waiting game when Peeta starts to tenderly kiss his way down my spine, and his fingers find their way back between my legs. I decide to keep my mouth shut. I've ruined the mood enough for one night, anyway.

* * *

The last thing I remember is curling up beside Gale on the train as he told Peeta and I about his exam.

Somebody had left their cell phone on inside their backpack - which we're all required to leave at the front of the lecture hall while writing finals - and it had started ringing in the middle of the exam.

"I guess they figured it would stop after a few more rings, but then it just kept going," Gale explains. "None of us could concentrate, and people started complaining. Then the moderator got angry and told whoever owned the phone to just go up there and turn the damn thing off or else forfeit their exam paper, but by then the poor kid was probably too embarrassed…" he trails off.

"Shh, look," Peeta says softly, and their quiet laughter is the only thing I hear before the train gently rocks me to sleep.

_I'm in the bathroom before the formal, and Nerissa is curling my hair. Only, it's not Nerissa. It keeps switching between her and that tall, blonde girl, Glimmer._

_"So, who do you like better – Gale or Peeta?" they probe._

_"Both," I answer calmly. Then, all of a sudden, I'm enraged. I knock a tiny jar of smoke-colored makeup off the bathroom counter. "Both! I told you that! Get it through your damn head!"_

_"If it's both, then how come you've only told Gale that you love him?"_

_I hear Glimmer's drunken giggle._

_Suddenly, it's Prim in the mirror. She's wearing Nerissa's fancy braid and a green wave froths at the hip of her gown. She's all grown up._

_"Of course I love Peeta," I tell her. My heart swells. He's endlessly patient and attentive. "I love him a lot."_

_And then I start to cry, streaking my own face with charcoal tears._

When I wake up, I'm leaning on Gale's sleeping shoulder and he's draped his jacket over me. My stomach feels like it's tied in a knot.

Peeta must have gone back to his seat – not a seat, really, but a private compartment in the upper part of the train, which his parents were able to afford for him. I've never even seen one of those compartments because Gale and I always ride the cheap seats on one fare. And we always get away with it, because nobody ever checks our tickets.

The train is still dark, but I can't seem to settle back down after that jarring dream. My nerves are raw. So I put on Gale's jacket and make my way towards the bathroom, thinking that splashing some tepid water on my face might help. When I pass the train's narrow stairwell, I notice that a heavy canvas curtain has been drawn at its entrance.

_First Class Passengers Only_, a tiny plaque reads.

Between thumb and forefinger, I pull the curtain aside an inch or two and peer upwards. Already, I can see the difference. The walls above are inlaid with wood, and a golden wall lamp with a shade shaped like a magnolia blossom fills the corridor with a soft, peachy glow.

I'm still taking it all in when a throat clears itself directly behind me, making me jump.

"Pardon me," says an official, casting me a withering look as he passes. I drop the curtain and quickly enter the bathroom. I'm not sure if you can get in trouble just for peeking, but judging by his dirty look I can guess that I'm not supposed to be. I smirk to myself as I turn on the tap. Wait until I tell Gale how ridiculous –

Wait. Was that an official?

"Gale!" I call out, tearing back towards our car, but it's too late. When I get there, a number of sleepy passengers have already been rudely awakened and the official is shining a flashlight directly into Gale's eyes.

"Anytime now," he barks, "if you have a ticket at all."

"I got it, I'm looking," Gale shoots back, rifling through his backpack.

"Gale!" I call again, and he turns. He shoots me a look that says _get out of here_. Instead, I dumbly take off the coat I'm wearing - _his_ coat - and hold it out. Our ticket is in the pocket. Only the one, but it's enough to cover him.

Gale just stands there stonily, refusing to take the jacket from my hand. He knows that if he claims the ticket and then they search me, I'll be the one who's fined or taken into custody at the next station. Or worse.

So I hand it directly to the official. "I borrowed his jacket," I say nervously. "See? I was cold. His ticket is in the pocket, I think. I was just coming to return it."

The official narrows his eyes at me but snatches the coat from my outstretched hand to confirm my claim. Gale just glares into space and clenches his jaw.

"How thoughtful of you," the official says in a condescending voice as he examines the stub under his flashlight. Then he shoves both the ticket and the coat into Gale's arms and shines his light directly into my eyes. I wince. "And may I see yours, please?"

"Right here," comes Peeta's voice from behind me, and his hand shoots forward holding a ticket. His ticket. The official grudgingly accepts it and begins to examine it. When I'm sure he's not looking, I cast Peeta a sideways look. _What are you doing?_

"I heard you call for Gale," he whispers through his teeth, wrapping an arm protectively around my waist.

"This is a ticket for first class," the official says, looking skeptical.

"Perhaps the train should include more bathrooms in first class, if you didn't want my wife to have to come all the way downstairs."

I quickly take Peeta's hand, both concealing my ringless finger and strengthening his bluff in one move.

"Your _wife_ says she says she knows this man, here." The official jams a thumb in Gale's direction. "Says she _borrowed_ his coat."

Peeta only laughs. "Then the train should also be warmer. Mr. Hawthorne is her cousin. Are we done here?"

The official glares at us, but before he can ask any further questions, Peeta announces that he'd like to have a drink with his 'family' in the lounge car to forget this whole irritating inconvenience, and Gale covertly grabs my bag along with his, and then we're hustling towards the opposite end of the train.

"Damn, you have good timing," Gale mutters once we're seated at a tiny table in the empty lounge. As the only one of us able to legally drink, he orders a shot of something brown and strong-smelling with the last of his pocket money so we can't be kicked out of the car. Peeta buys me a peppermint tea, but I'm too nervous to even sip it. I'm still clinging to his hand. When the bartender isn't looking, Gale slides his glass across the table. "Thanks, Peet. I owe you."

"Don't worry about it. You probably need this more," Peeta chuckles, passing the drink back. The easygoing smile remains on his face, but he lowers his voice. "We should probably get out of here in case our_friend_ decides to come and ask for my ticket next."

"Agreed," Gale says, downing the glass. We all head straight for Peeta's compartment.

"What if they come around to check tickets in first class?" I hiss as we enter the narrow room.

"They won't, not at this time of night. It'd piss off too many high-paying customers," Gale says bitterly, locking the door behind us.

"We'll pretend we're asleep, anyways," Peeta adds, switching off the light.

I only get a brief glimpse of the compartment before it's bathed in nothing but the eerie blue moonlight that filters through the small window. The room itself is not half as luxurious as I had imagined, but it does have a long bench which folds down into a bed, a small table built right into the wall, an overhead locker for luggage and even a tiny sink.

Wordlessly, the three of us remove our shoes and squeeze onto the bed. Peeta takes the spot closest to the window so Gale can stretch his feet out onto the desk, and I take the spot between them - which I quickly realize is going to get very warm, so I remove my sweater. It's cramped, but really relatively comfortable. My stomachache is ebbing away, and all at once I realize how deliriously happy I am to have both of the men I love pressed to either side of me.

_Love._

Without warning, my dream comes rushing back at me, and I know I'll never be able to sleep until I do something about it. So after many long, tense minutes of building up my courage, I shift slightly and nuzzle my face into Peeta's neck, hoping that he's not asleep yet.

He's not – he lazily reaches over and squeezes my arm.

"Peet?" I whisper.

"Yeah," comes his response.

I bite my lips. "Have I told you... that I love you?"

Peeta says nothing for a moment, and I realize that he's holding his breath. "No, you haven't told me that," he finally whispers back.

"Well… I do. I love you. I love you both." And then I'm the one holding my breath.

A second later, Peeta turns on his side and cups my face with his hand. I turn towards him minutely, trying not to wake Gale, who is breathing deeply and evenly at my back. I expect him to say that he loves me, too, but instead Peeta just strokes my cheek with his thumb. I can't make out his expression in the dark. Then, he kisses me, long and deep.

When I eventually slide my hand up the front of his shirt to feel his heartbeat beneath his warm skin, he doesn't stop me. And when I test my fingers along the waistband of his pants, he still doesn't stop me. He even helps me push down his shorts. And when I ultimately lick my palm and take hold of him, hot and hard in my hand, he lies back and lets me stroke him.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long," I whisper into his ear, memorizing each soft moan of his and which touch of mine elicited it. It turns out that Peeta was right all of those times he'd said _not yet._ It was worth waiting for all the pieces to fall together; for me to sort out words and feelings that I didn't know needed sorting; for Gale's hot breath to be falling against my back even during this intimate moment, proving that we really are all _together. _ For Peeta to know that I love him as much as he does me, and I'm comfortable with it.

Sometimes I think he figures me out before I've even figured out myself.

A frantic chain of words fall out of Peeta's mouth as he comes. "Yes, Katniss," he whispers, holding onto the back of my neck. "Keep touching me, oh, _fuck_, _yes_, I'm coming. I love you, _I love you_," he breathes as he spills into my hand. I feel a surge of power, knowing that _I_ made _him_ feel good for once. His hips buck softly and his fingers curl into my hair, holding my forehead against his.

"Shh," I whisper back. "I love you, too. Shh, Gale's sleeping."

It's only after I've licked my fingers clean and we've settled back down that I feel the gentle press of a pair of lips against my shoulder blade - lips that are behind me, not in front of me - and I realize that Gale hasn't been sleeping at all.


	7. Chapter 7: Homecoming

**Chapter 7: Homecoming**

I awake to the muted electric purr of the train gliding along the tracks. Up here in Peeta's compartment I can barely even tell that we're moving, except for a gentle side-to-side swaying sensation every now and then.

Ghostly pale daylight is just beginning to illuminate the cabin. My skin is damp with sweat where Gale's body is pressed against mine, and Peeta's forearm is a dead weight across my middle. I should probably be uncomfortable, sandwiched between these two heavy, sleeping bodies, but, surprisingly, I'm not. Actually, I had a really refreshing sleep. I wriggle my toes and then tug my arms free, letting them flop carelessly above my head. Lying here, I can't help the warm, lazy smile that melts across my face. It's the first time in recent memory that I've actually felt…_content._

Gale must've been roused by my stretching, because seconds later his grey eyes flicker open. My arms are still slung above my head and my left elbow obscures half his face, but I can still see his mouth curve upwards into a grin.

Something in the atmosphere seems to have shifted since last night. I can feel it. Maybe it's because Peeta came to our rescue with the whole ticket thing, or maybe it's because we all slept in the same bed for the first time. I'm not really sure. But something about the three of us, together, has solidified. Those light kisses I felt on the back of my shoulder as I was drifting off to sleep last night told me that Gale had been more than just aware of what was going on between Peeta and I, just inches away from him – he actually encouraged it.

I'm grateful to see him smiling at me now. No more strange, indecipherable looks.

Gale lifts himself up on his elbow and hovers over me for a moment. He drags his thumb lightly across my cheek as he studies me. Then he leans in and plants a sweet, soft kiss on my lips. I'm so relaxed and uninhibited in this state – that is, in the semi-conscious fog of having just woken up – and he knows it. Morning sex typically ends with some of the best orgasms I've ever had, probably because it's the only time I'm ever really mellow and can't over-think things. I wrap my arms around Gale's neck, but I only return his kisses lightly, wanting to savor the levity of this moment.

A few kisses later, the heavy arm laying across my middle curls around my waist and tightens. Peeta. I must've made a little noise, because Gale and I break apart and turn our heads to find him watching us sleepily, his face half-buried in the cloud of my hair.

_That's the second time he's woken up to Gale and I kissing,_ I think to myself. But the only time Peeta has ever let his jealousy get the best of him was during that one argument in my room, back before he was getting kisses too. It seems that Peeta's okay with sharing so long as he's ensured some attention for himself. With that in mind, I move towards him, cup his chin in one hand and pull him in for a kiss of his own. He smiles into my mouth. I playfully nip at his upper lip to coax him into kissing me back.

He does.

It could end here, like this, with just a good-morning kiss for each of us. We could get up and start preparing for our arrival back in District Twelve.

But we don't.

None of us even need to say anything. What happens next just comes naturally.

Gale nudges my cheek with the tip of his nose and I instinctive turn back to face him. I barely have a second to breathe before his mouth is covering mine once more. He suckles intently on my bottom lip, drawing it out and teasing it between his teeth which, just… _god damn_… drives me crazy. At the same moment, Peeta brushes my hair back behind my ear and plants a sensuous kiss on the skin below my earlobe. A wave of pleasure ripples through me and I whimper.

_Oh. Shit._

Gale releases my lip and attaches his mouth to my collarbone. He hooks his index finger over the neckline of my tank top and tugs the fabric down between my breasts, creating a little path for his kisses. Then he begins to descend at an achingly slow pace. Meanwhile, Peeta has made his way up to my lips for another kiss. He moves closer towards me, pressing the length of his body up against my right side. I'm suddenly very aware of how hard he is against my hip.

Hello, morning wood.

I'm officially awake now, but the relaxed, uninhibited feeling hasn't passed. I want more of whatever it is that's happening right now. So I slide my right hand along Peeta's jaw and curl my fingers into his hair, aggressively pulling him closer and deepening our kiss. Our mouths open and I'm the one in control at first, stroking his tongue with my own, playing in his mouth; all the while, Gale's soft, sucking kisses drag lower and lower, down between my breasts. Then Peeta exhales hard, cups my face in both of his big hands and engulfs me with a passionate kiss of his own. My head spins.

That's when I know that I'm done for. Outnumbered. Completely overwhelmed, in the best way possible. I have no choice but to give in and enjoy the lips that seem to be everywhere, simultaneously tasting my skin and leaving me breathless. And while the thought of not being in control is not one that I would usually enjoy, the thought of it happening while I'm in Peeta's and Gale's arms is mind-numbingly erotic.

It's Peeta's hand that leaves my cheek and tugs my top down a moment later, exposing my right breast to Gale's attentions. When Gale's hot mouth covers my nipple I actually break away from Peeta's kiss and cry out, unable to fight the natural urge to lift my hips. I grab the back of the dark head against my chest and hold it there, wanting more, wondering if it's possible to orgasm from this alone.

It sure feels like it.

Peeta's fingers grip my chin insistently, turning my head back towards his. His tongue dips into my mouth once again. At the same moment, Gale tugs down the other side of my top, palms my newly exposed left breast, then drags the flat of his tongue across that nipple, too, teasing it to attention just like he had the other. I arch my back and moan like a wild animal into Peeta's mouth.

_Fuck._

Coherent thought is out of the question. All my attention has zeroed in on what's happening in this moment.

In response to my keening, Peeta gives a little thrust of his own against my hip. I'm not sure if it's meant to be a hint, but it captures my attention anyways. I untangle my fingers from his hair and drag them down his chest. He breaks away from my lips and sucks in a small breath just before my hand closes over the bulge at the front of his pants. I hadn't been able to see his expressions in the dark as I'd touched him last night, but I have my eyes trained on his face now. I find myself mesmerized by his swollen, barely-parted lips and the way his eyelids blissfully droop as my fingers begin to explore his shape.

I'm still fixated on Peeta's expression when Gale catches my nipple in his teeth. A high-pitched sort of gasp is pulled from my throat and my body shudders as if caught in an electrical current. Then Gale does it again, and my head snaps back and I cry out, squeezing Peeta's cock in one hand and a handful of Gale's dark hair in the other.

_Yes._

Suddenly, the three of us are frantic. Someone moans softly. Then there's a hand on the flat of my stomach, teasing the strip of bare skin where my top has inched up, threatening to dip below my waistband. A wild thrill runs through me when I realize that I can't tell whose hand it is. Peeta grabs a fistful of my hair and exhales shakily against my lips as Gale kisses my neck. Someone cups my breast and flicks my nipple – still wet from Gale's saliva – with their thumb. I gasp loudly a few times, unable to control my own breathing any longer. Then two mouths are on mine, one after another, then overlapping. Then indistinguishable. And then, somehow, all of us are kissing at once, tongues and lips and hot breath all mingling together, not really taking turns anymore.

_Holy fucking hell._

I start to rub Peeta in earnest with my right hand at the same time that I shove my left down between Gale and myself. He lets out a guttural moan as my fingers find his erection straining against the front of his pants, which snaps us all out of our kiss. The three of us, breathless, look down at my hand on his cock at the same time. For a second, there's no movement except for the heaving of our chests. Then Gale's eyes snap up and meet mine, wild with lust.

The next thing I know, I'm half on top of him, straddling his leg, using both hands on his body. I unzip his fly and kiss my way down his olive-skinned throat as he tilts his head back in pleasure. Peeta is pressed to my back, practically pushing me on top of him, all the while kissing the nape of my neck in the most torturous way, spurring me on.

Someone's hand is on top of my hand – the one that had just been touching Peeta – guiding it ever so slightly as I take hold of Gale's smooth length; another hand roughly caresses one of my breasts, then moves down to pop the button on my jeans. I'm acutely aware of the heat of Peeta's bare skin against my back, but I can't recall when he took off his shirt. The fabric between my legs dampens as probing fingers slip inside my pants begin to stroke me through the thin cotton of my underwear – is that the work of one hand, or two? – and I squirm in delight, and then Gale releases a moan through his clenched teeth as I begin to pump him in my fist, and–

And then all three of our heads bump into the wall at the same time.

Confused, we look up. The train is rapidly slowing down. A second later, the lights in the compartment automatically switch on.

"Now arriving at District Twelve platform. Please prepare to disembark," chimes a robotic female voice from a tiny speaker near the compartment door.

My jaw drops.

"What?" I ask, sitting up and glaring at the speaker as if it could provide some sort of explanation, aside from the pre-programmed wakeup call it just delivered. When nothing happens, I turn to look out the window. Sure enough, the train station is coming into view.

"What!" I demand in disbelief, unwilling to part with this little compartment just yet, this little world that contains just Peeta and Gale and I and this… this _feeling_that consumes us when we're all together.

But I have no choice. We're here. We're home. Back in our small district, where people are old fashioned and gossip travels fast. Surely no one here would understand the nature of our relationship. We'll have to keep it a secret, I realize grimly. And who knows when the three of us will have a chance to be together again.

Peeta groans and collapses face-first onto the bench.

Gale just sits there, looking like he's been been robbed.

* * *

When we step off the train, Gale's mother is waiting with Posy in tow. The little girl is mid-yawn when she spots us. Then she tears across the wooden platform and throws herself around her brother's legs.

"Gale! You're home!" she sings into his knees. "You're home!"

Peeta watches with a bittersweet smile as Gale easily hoists Posy up with one arm and sits her on his hip.

"I think you've gotten bigger since Thanksgiving," Gale smiles. "I can barely lift you anymore."

"Yeah, right!" she giggles.

"Glad you're back, son," Hazelle murmurs tiredly as she approaches, kissing his cheek. "The boys have been going on about it for days, so be prepared."

At that, I smirk. Rory and Vick love Gale to pieces, but their way of showing affection usually involves pulling some kind of prank on him whenever he returns home. No doubt they're setting something up right now, or else they'd be here on the platform, too, completing the Hawthorne welcoming committee.

Peeta, on the other hand, has no one waiting at the station to welcome him. "Bakers start work early, anyways," was how he'd accounted for his family's absence as we'd gotten off the train. But the way he'd said it had made my heart ache for him. I would take him home with me, but I know my mother would never allow it.

"Well, Katniss, don't you look wide awake this morning!" Hazelle smiles, interrupting my thoughts.

I feel myself blush furiously. _If only she knew why…_

"I think I saw Prim and your mother towards the other end of the platform," she adds. "They certainly have a surprise for you!"

"A surprise?" I ask wearily. The last 'surprise' I got was my father's death, so my anxiety instantly rises, even though there's nothing about the situation to indicate that I ought to be worried.

"Oh, I think you'll like it," she winks.

* * *

_I think you'll like it._

My mother has just said something, but I didn't hear her. I've been too distracted by the huge bedroom in front of me. The one with the wicker chair in the corner and the spray of dried lavender decorating the wall above the big bed. The one with clean white walls that still reek of fresh paint.

It's my bedroom, apparently. In our new house.

"What did you say?" I ask.

"I said, 'Do you like it?'" She repeats timidly. "I left it a little plain so you could decorate it yourself. But the windows look out towards the forest, so I thought you'd like this room best of all…"

She trails off when I make no move to respond.

The truth is, I'm livid with my mother for what she has done. Absolutely furious. The government only gave us so much money after my father's death – money that would've been a part of his pension, had he lived. Money that stood between our family and starvation when my mother was unable to work; which I had managed scrupulously in order to feed us during those long months of mourning, not knowing how long I'd need to make it last. Money that has been helping put me through school, and that I've had to be careful with in order to ensure that there will be enough left over to help Prim when it comes time for her to start university.

But now my mother has gone and spent it all on a new house – a house we didn't need – without even consulting me. Without thinking of all the memories attached to our old one. The one where she and Prim and I had spent so many happy moments with my father before he was blown to bits in that mine explosion. Has she forgotten so easily?

"How much did you get for selling our old house?" I ask coldly, turning on her. "Hmm? Is that what paid for all the new furniture?"

"Katniss, I know it's an adjustment, but I thought if we moved to a better part of town…"

I don't even stick around to hear what she has to say. I'm too angry. I just turn on my heel and fly down the wide, carpeted stairwell that leads to the front door.

The wall beside the door in our old house had been marked up by my father's pencil, measuring how Prim and I had grown over the years.

All this one is covered with is blank wallpaper.

* * *

My first instinct is to head for the woods, but I'm not wearing any kind of winter gear and everything around Twelve is buried in a good foot and a half of snow, at least. In my flight from the new house I didn't even grab a coat. So, instead, I head to the nearest warm place I can think of – the Mellark Bakery. Peeta will be there. I know that he and his family live above it, and it's just a short walk away, now that we live in the Merchant Quarter.

The Merchant Quarter. Jesus. Gale is going to shit a brick when I tell him. Coming from the Seam, he'll be as upset about this as I am. Only, he'll start ranting endlessly about class inequality and distribution of wealth and keeping the people divided against each other–

It's then that I feel a pang of guilt, and it occurs to me that it might not be the kindest thing to rage about our new house to Gale. I mean, he and Hazelle live in two cold, leaky bedrooms with three kids. He's always having to fix something that's fallen apart. And, to my knowledge, he and Rory and Vick all still share one big bed. Gale would kill to be offered a bedroom like the one my mother just presented me with! No, I would probably just come off as ungrateful if I stormed into the Hawthorne's run-down little bungalow, complaining about our big, shiny new mansion. I can't do that. I'll have to think of a gentler way to broach the subject.

I kick the snow off my shoes on the front steps of the bakery, and a gust of warm, sugary air hits me as soon as I open the door.

"Katniss!" Peeta says, surprised. I'm surprised to see him, too, working so soon after arriving home on an overnight train. Clearly, his parents haven't given him a minute's rest, let alone any kind of welcome. He's standing behind the counter, tying on a clean apron, and I'm just about to say hello when the voice of an irate woman belches out from the back room.

"_Peeta!_ Where is the pastry bag with the pumpkin mousse?! I swear, I leave you alone with it for one minute and it goes missing!"

That lovely lady would be his mother.

"Hold on a minute," Peeta says to me, flashing a smile. "Look around while I'm gone and tell me what I should bring to your Christmas dinner." Then he disappears behind the curtain.

Right. The Everdeen-Hawthorne Christmas feast, which was originally started by Gale and I after the mine explosion that killed our fathers. At the time, it was just a way for two struggling families to pool their resources and share a bit of camaraderie during the holidays, which were always particularly rough. But now it's become an annual tradition. One that will be celebrated, this year, over my mother's glossy new dining room set, no doubt.

I sigh bitterly as I peruse the cake display, stopping to admire a pink one topped with glazed strawberries. I bet Prim would like it. My first thought is that we can't afford it, but then I catch myself and decide in a moment of anger to order it anyways. Why not? What's one little cake when my mother has already bought a house?

I'm considering buying a pear tart as well when I'm startled by a loud noise from the bakery's back room. It's followed by the sound of something metallic hitting the floor. Peeta re-emerges a moment later, his cheeks reddened.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, of course, it's just…" Peeta looks over his shoulder and then lowers his voice. "She's in a hell of a mood. You should probably go."

I don't really know Peeta's mother, but already we don't get along. I don't think she gets along with anyone – I can't imagine why Peeta's father married her – but she especially dislikes those of us that she calls _Seam trash_, even if we are paying customers like anyone else.

By comparison, she makes my own mother look like a saint.

Just then, the red-faced woman herself pokes her head out from the back room and shoots Peeta and I a deep glare. "You can talk to friends when you're off the clock!" she barks at her son. "Get back to your work!"

It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to snap at her for treating Peeta so poorly. Instead, I politely say, "Actually, I'm here to order a cake for a housewarming party, if you don't mind. We've just moved into the neighborhood."

Peeta's mother eyes me suspiciously, but then snaps her fingers at Peeta and makes a hand motion that must mean _write it down_ before she mercifully disappears back behind the curtain.

_Sorry,_ Peeta mouths, rolling his eyes to play it off, but I can see that he's embarrassed and hurt by the whole scene. I just want to wrap him up in my arms, but his mother would probably throw a fit if she came out and saw that. So I settle for giving his fingers a little squeeze over the counter, conveniently concealed by the edge of the cash register.

"Housewarming?" he asks curiously.

"Yeah. That was the surprise Hazelle was talking about. My mother bought a house over on the corner of Victory Square."

Peeta lets out a low, impressed whistle.

"Yup," I mutter.

"You don't like it?"

"Well-"

"Peeta! _Hurry it up!_" his mother shouts from the back room.

"Look, can you come over tonight?" I blurt out. "For the housewarming party, I mean. Please? Bring the pink cake with the strawberries and we'll pay for it on delivery."

The truth is, there is no housewarming party. At least there wasn't until now. I'm just looking for an excuse to get Peeta out of the bakery.

"I'll try," Peeta answers, smiling. I don't know how he can smile with a family like his, but he does. "And good choice of cake. Prim will love it."

"That's exactly what I was thinking!"

"Are you happy to finally see her again?" Peeta asks.

Actually, in my rage over the new house I haven't yet spent a moment visiting with Prim. I suddenly feel very stupid for being so upset about it, not because I didn't have reason to be, but because I've let my anger overshadow what I'd been most excited about coming home for – time with my family. And I feel a little bad for despising my mother so much after seeing what Peeta puts up with at home.

"I'm actually going to see her right now," I answer, grateful for the perspective Peeta just unwittingly gave me. "I just came by to tell you to come over tonight. And tomorrow. Anytime, really." I nod towards the back room. "_Anytime._" And then, with a burst of affection, I lean in and give him a quick peck on the cheek. Then I dash for the door before his mother can return and get mad at him for continuing to speak to me.

"Deliver the cake to 44 Victory Square," I call over my shoulder.

"Alright." He's grinning.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

I do go home and make plans with Prim for later in the afternoon, but first I grab a coat and make my away across town to Gale's house. He meets me on the front porch with a mug of tea just as I'm coming up the front steps.

"How's the new house?" He holds out the hot drink to me.

"How did you know?" I ask, too stunned to accept his offer. He has to push the mug into my hands.

"Peeta sent me a text saying that you came into the bakery without a coat and seemed upset, but he didn't have the chance to ask you what about. And mom told me about the house during our walk home. So I put two and two together."

"Oh."

"So?"

"It's okay." But that's all I seem to be able to say, because suddenly there's a lump in my throat and I'm very close to crying.

Gale takes the mug from me and sets it on the window ledge. Then he envelopes me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest and inhale his comforting scent, but it doesn't stop the tears from coming. Somewhere inside the house, I can hear Vick and Posy yelling – happy sounds, unlike those I overheard at the Mellark Bakery.

How different their lives are.

It doesn't seem fair to be crying when I'm the one with a nice family _and_ a decent home. The realization that Peeta and Gale each only have half of what I do forces me to dig around inside myself and figure out what's really upsetting me.

"It's not even the money," I eventually choke out. "I just that I didn't even get to see it one last time before she sold it."

I feel Gale nod above me. He understands how important these things are after losing someone you love. "At least you still have the cabin," he reminds me.

"Gale!" I gasp, actually startled out of my tears by his statement. Yes! Of course! The little cabin in the woods that my father and I spent summers at, fishing. I don't think my mother even knows about it, but Gale remembers. Of course Gale remembers!

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing! You're perfect! Thank you!"

Gale gives me a serious look, then picks up the mug of tea from the window ledge and gives it a sniff. "This was supposed to be tea, but you're clearly drunk…" he muses. I roll my eyes at him as I wipe my eyes on my scarf and begin to back down the steps.

"Hey, I have to go. I have plans with Prim. But can you come over tonight? I'm sort of having a housewarming party."

"A housewarming party?" he asks skeptically.

"Yes. Just me, you and Peeta. So don't go bringing a date or something."

"I see," Gale says quietly, holding my gaze as he tries to suppress a smile. "I'll be there."


	8. Chapter 8: A Warm House, Indeed

**Chapter 8: A Warm House, Indeed**

My phone buzzes with a new text just as Prim and I are folding up our blanket and heading back inside. We've spent the last few hours of daylight sitting on our new porch swing, catching up over mugs of steaming hot chocolate dotted with mini marshmallows.

"Oooh, who is it?" she giggles, peeking over my shoulder.

"Prim!" I nudge her away with mock irritation and cover the screen.

"Oh Katniss, I know it's either Peeta or Gale," she sings, "even if you keep saying that you're not dating anyone!"

I hadn't figured out exactly what to tell Prim about that, so when she'd asked me to go over everything new that happened last semester, I remained vague about all the relationshippy bits. Still, she pieced together that I've spent practically every waking moment with either Peeta or Gale or both, and has come to the conclusion that I must be secretly dating one of them.

Well, she's half right. About the secret part, at least.

I wait until Prim has scampered indoors with the blanket and mugs before checking the message. It's from Gale.

_Mind if I bring a game to your housewarming party tonight?_

A game? I shrug to myself. Of course I don't mind. Why would Gale need to ask for my permission to bring a game? Unless…

Unless it's not a game at all, and this is code for something else.

_What kind of game, Hawthorne? _I write back.

A minute later, my phone buzzes again.

_The fun kind ;-)_

Oh no.

_WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? _I type. My mother has rules, and she and I aren't exactly on the best terms right now as it is. The last thing I need is for Gale to get caught sneaking over a bottle of white liquor for a drinking game or something.

My phone vibrates almost instantly with his reply.

_Don't worry about it ;-)_

I curse under my breath at that stupid, cryptic little winky face. Since when does Gale Hawthorne use emoticons? He's obviously up to something. I start to write back, then reconsider and decide to text Peeta instead. I figure that if he knows anything, he'll be more likely to give me a straight answer.

_Hey, what is this "game" that Gale's bringing over tonight? Should I be worried? _

A moment later, Peeta texts back.

_I have no idea what you're talking about...?_

Damn.

"Maybe they're conspiring," I mutter to myself, snapping my phone shut. I'm about to head inside when my pocket buzzes once more. Peeta's text message only contains one thing:

_;)_

Yup. Definitely conspiring.

I guess I should've seen this coming. With two of them and just one of me, the odds are definitely not in my favor.

* * *

Peeta Mellark really does have impeccable timing.

He shows up on our doorstep just seconds after we've finished supper, carrying a box containing the strawberry cake I picked out earlier. Gale stands beside him on the porch and shoots me a wicked grin as I open the door. Judging by the fresh snow on their jackets, the two of them have been walking around outside together for quite a while. Probably plotting something evil.

God, it's like having brothers.

I narrow my eyes at them. "I'm not letting you in until you tell me what-"

"Delivery for Primrose Everdeen!" Peeta announces brightly, giving me a wink. Before I can get another word out, my sister comes skidding across the hardwood floors in her socks, squealing in delight when she sees the bakery's logo stamped on the box. Suddenly Gale's wicked grin has been replaced by a polite smile and my mother has come over to welcome our guests inside.

"A cake! What a nice surprise!" she gushes when Peeta tells her there's no charge.

"You didn't have to do that," I argue. "We can pay for it."

"No, it's a housewarming gift. Welcome to the neighborhood!" he beams.

My mother eats it up with a spoon.

"Let's all sit down and have a slice for dessert," she insists, taking coats.

Damn. Now there's no chance I'll be able to catch these two alone in order to figure out what's going on. It's only once Peeta has distracted my mother with questions and Prim has gone into the kitchen to cut the cake that I manage to snag Gale by his elbow for a few brief seconds.

"What are you two up to?" I hiss through my teeth. "What is this _game_?"

"Don't be so suspicious, Katniss," he whispers back, smiling. "We wouldn't do anything to get you into trouble."

And then, while my mother isn't looking, he traps my chin in his fingers and kisses me on the lips.

The three of us discussed this just before we got off the train. No public displays of affection. None. At all. Not while we're here in Twelve. I don't want to give the district anything to talk about when it comes to our relationship, not after Nerissa's awkward questions and then that giggling friend of hers. I mean, if it's that hard for people in the Capitol to comprehend our relationship, then surely our little district would be horrified if they found out. So we agreed that all PDAs – aside from the seasonally appropriate hug – would be off limits until we got back on the train.

But now Gale is kissing me. Here, in the dining room. With my mother just a few feet away and my sister about to walk in with dessert!

I panic and start to pull away, but he's quicker. The next thing I know, he's simply standing next to me as if nothing has even happened, wearing the best damn poker face I've ever seen in my life. Peeta is still busy charming my mother, who hasn't noticed a thing. I lift the back of my hand to my lips and sneak a look over my shoulder - Prim is still in the kitchen, unaware, humming a funny little song as she cuts the pink cake into even slices.

So _this_ is the game.

Nervous laughter bubbles up in my throat and I have to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep it from escaping.

After dessert, Peeta asks my mother for a tour of the new house. She delightedly obliges, leading the three of us from room to room, not realizing that the guys are taking turns backing me into doorways and corners, stealing kisses whenever she isn't looking.

They work smoothly together as a team, one creating a distraction while the other makes his move. It's actually pretty impressive how in tune they are with each other. At one point, Peeta pins me against a wall, slips his hand down the back of my underwear and squeezes my ass. I give a little yelp, which nearly gets us caught, but he and Gale cover it up expertly and my mother is none the wiser in the end. It's only once our tour is over that she remarks, in passing, that I look a little flushed.

"Are you feeling under the weather at all?" She touches my forehead, feeling for a temperature.

"It's nothing, I'm fine," I insist, certain that my cheeks are burning up even more.

"Maybe it was the long train ride," she wonders aloud.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gale and Peeta suppressing their laughter.

When my mother finally leaves us to ourselves, the three of us pile onto the couch in the TV room, using a movie as an excuse to dim the lights and continue our little game. But then Prim unexpectedly decides to join us, effectively ruining that plan. She walks in carrying two bowls of popcorn, plunks the larger on my lap, then curls up on the recliner in the corner with the other.

"Thanks," I say, gritting my teeth. _Please get bored and leave, Prim._

"You're welcome," she chirps, settling in.

However, as it turns out, the big bowl on my lap provides that extra little bit of cover that Peeta and Gale's wandering hands need, and within minutes _Operation: Tease Katniss Everdeen_ has recommenced. Throughout the movie, their fingers covertly trace little patterns across my thighs, slowly inching closer to the junction between my legs. I spread my knees a little to give them the hint – _yes,_ I want your fingers _there!_ - but if the slow teasing of one hand is torturous, the work of two can only be described as agonizing. When their fingertips finally meet over my mound and start rubbing me, slow and hard through my jeans, I'm so turned on that I'm hardly able to keep from squirming. It takes all my effort just to control my breathing and keep my eyes fastened on the TV so Prim won't have cause to look over at us.

But pretending to watch the movie really becomes impossible when Gale manages to sneak one, thick digit past the waistband of my buttoned jeans and presses the tip of his finger against my aching clit. I noticeably jump and have to steady the popcorn bowl on my lap. _Shit._ The stiff denim and awkward angle don't afford his hand much room to move, but between that tiny bit of skin-to-skin contact and Peeta's fingers continuing to massage me through the ever-dampening fabric, I'm about to lose it. I want to come so badly that it almost hurts. This isn't an innocent little game anymore - just a burning, demanding, all-consuming _hunger_.

Ugh. All I can think about is this morning on the train, when I had Peeta and Gale in the palms of my hands. Literally. Both of their hard, thick cocks; my fingers wrapped around each one. The heat of them, the weight of them, their sensitive ridges, those little beads of moisture accumulating at the tips... and the way their faces looked, the way they kissed me when I took hold of them-

_Don't think about that,_ I tell myself. _It won't make things any easier!_ But then Peeta's fingers begin grinding in circles against me and I can't help but imagine how amazing it'd feel if they were inside me right now. _Fuck!_ If only I was wearing a skirt!

_No, no,_ I remind myself. This can't happen here, not with Prim only a few feet away. Isn't there somewhere we can sneak off to? Somewhere that the three of us won't be noticed? I mean, there's the cabin, but that's a good two or three hours hike into the woods! My mind races through the available possibilities and I seriously consider getting naked outside, in the freezing cold, behind some trees or out near the slag heap or something – I don't care, so long as it means release.

I shift a little bit and focus on exhaling smoothly, but Gale takes my movement as an opportunity to start gently pulsing his fingertip against my clit. My thighs start to clench and unclench uncontrollably. Then Peeta cups me with his whole hand and the heat between my legs seems to shoot up by about 50 degrees. _Oh god._

In this state, it's far too easy to recall the frenzy the three of us were in this morning. What would've happened if the train hadn't pulled into the station when it did? Would I have straddled Gale, sunk down onto his cock and fucked him right then and there, with Peeta right beside us, watching us, encouraging us? Would Peeta have joined in? Would he have positioned himself behind my hips afterwards, pushing into me even as I dripped with Gale's juices? Would Peeta have fucked me right over top of him, until I collapsed onto Gale's chest, screaming into his damp skin?

Probably.

Oh, god _I want them!_ I want them both! Here, on the floor, on the coffee table, _I don't care!_ Gale's finger wriggles downwards slightly, sinking in between my slick folds, and it takes all my effort to keep my hips from twitching. I feel the weightlessness of an approaching orgasm and I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open – they keep rolling back in my head. _Shit, shit, shit! _It's going to happen! Gale and Peeta need to stop. It's going to happen and they _need_ to stop but I don't want them to stop! I tilt my head back minutely and bite my lip so hard that I taste the metallic tang of blood. _I want them both, one after another, maybe at the same time, even-_ I can feel my hips trying to push upwards, my back wanting to bow ever so slightly. _Don't look now, Prim, please don't-_

My toes curl inside my shoes as one hell of a climax rips through my body, rolling down my thighs and up my spine and spreading out into the roots of my hair. I try to hold my breath and keep my body still, but I have no way of knowing if I'm succeeding or not because all I can make sense of is the roar of my own blood rushing through my ears.

Then I'm floating. Suspended somewhere in time.

"Katniss?"

"Huh? Yeah?" I gasp, bolting upright as Prim's voice trespasses into my little bubble of bliss, bursting it open far too soon. Peeta and Gale's hands pull away from my body just as I panic and knock the popcorn bowl off my lap, spilling buttery kernels all over the carpet.

"D-damn it," I stammer, bending down to clean up the mess. "What is it, Prim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, she was just asking you an innocent question," Gale reassures me, kneeling down to join in the clean up effort. _She didn't see anything,_ he means. _Don't freak out._

"Oh. Good!" I laugh loudly. Too loud. _Geez, Katniss._ "It's just this movie," I attempt to explain. "It always sort of makes me edgy."

"_This_ movie?" Prim asks skeptically. I follow her eyes and actually look at the screen. A man and woman are having a rather bland telephone conversation.

"Oh. No, I guess not..." I offer weakly. Wow, I was _really_ out of it. I thought we were watching the one with the shark attack.

"Are you alright?" Prim asks.

"Um, I'm just really, really tired. I must've… fallen asleep for a second and, uh, lost track of things."

Gale sort of snorts and I shoot him a look. But then Peeta stands up and yawns.

"It has been a long day, with the red-eye train and all. We should probably be going, anyways," he says.

"Um," is all that stupidly falls out of my mouth. What am I supposed to say? _Sorry, Peeta. Can't quite form a coherent sentence yet. Still a little hazy from that orgasm you just gave me. _

"Yeah. It's getting late," Gale adds, and then he stands, too. "Thanks for inviting us to your housewarming, though."

I glare at him as he smiles down mischievously at me. My house is definitely _warmer_ now, I'll give him that._  
_

"I'll walk you to the door," I answer, then I hustle Peeta and Gale into the hallway.

"Did you enjoy your houswarming present?" Peeta whispers in my ear.

I know he doesn't mean the cake.

"Shh!" I hiss. "Don't say another word until we're alone on the front porch!" Peeta chuckles as I practically throw his coat at him. But then my mother comes into the foyer and everyone takes their time saying thank you and goodnight, and I never do get a chance to speak to him or Gale privately.

I suppose I wouldn't have known just what to say, anyways. One part of me thinks that little game was way, way too risky and that it should never happen again. But another, tiny part of me found it unbelievably sexy and thrilling. Okay, maybe a pretty big part of me.

I guess that part wins out, because I can't stop thinking about it as I go to bed.

That night, I dream that the three of us sneak off into the master bathroom and lock the door. Gale watches in the mirror as I climb onto Peeta's lap and make love to him on the marble countertop, clinging to his shoulders, riding him until he comes. After we've finished, Peeta turns me around so my back rests against his chest, holding my body tightly against his as Gale sinks into me. His deep, hard thrusts shake right through us both.

I wake up to that phantom sensation of Gale filling me while Peeta holds me, and I have to finish myself off with my fingers.


	9. Chapter 9: Better Together

**Chapter 9: Better Together**

_Note: I've taken liberties with Katniss' cabin. It's described in the books as being a shell of concrete leftover from the dark days, but here I've decided to make it a cozy wooden thing which her father actually built. Enjoy._

* * *

With Gale picking up spare shifts in the mines, Peeta manning the bakery's ovens each day, and me spending all of my free time hunting for the perfect turkey, the next time the three of us are all together is at the Everdeen-Hawthorne Christmas then I'm getting pretty antsy and I'm sort of hoping that Gale and Peeta will bring another naughty game idea with them, but they turn out to be disappointingly well-behaved all evening.

Oh well.

We still have a really good time. Peeta arrives with a pumpkin pie and a bag of seasoned breadcrumbs to make Gale's favorite part of the meal - stuffing. Gale himself contributes a dozen mandarin oranges and a bag of roasted chestnuts to our spread, Prim bakes basil and goat cheese appetizers using the new recipe book I gave her, Hazelle brings two steaming casseroles of mashed potatoes and crisp green beans, respectively, and I supply the bird, which my mother dresses, cooks, and serves with homemade gravy and cranberry sauce.

Oh, and Buttercup delivers a freshly decapitated rat to our back door, howling for approval until Prim strokes his ragged ear and croons, "Good baby!" I'm the one who has to pick up the headless rodent with a handful of newspaper and take it out to the bin.

Stupid cat.

After dessert, my mother and Hazelle settle in front of the fire with mugs of their favorite coffee. Prim joins them and picks up her newest hobby – knitting – while the rest of us tumble out into the snow for another Everdeen-Hawthorne tradition: a moonlit snowball fight. Peeta, Gale and I cackle and whoop along with the younger Hawthornes, hurling snow bombs at one another until our hands are too numb to continue.

The nights are so dark and clear out here in Twelve, you can look up and see every single star glinting against the black-blue sky. With all the artificial light in the Capitol, it's impossible to see even half as many. And they're especially plentiful tonight – like someone sprinkled a handful of sugar over the dome of the earth – and for a moment I wish it was just Peeta and Gale and I, alone, enjoying it together. I actually find myself looking forward to returning to school just so we can stop hiding our relationship.

We do end up getting a small moment of relative privacy, though. While everyone else warms themselves in front of the fire, the three of us take our mugs of hot apple cider from the stove and sit around the table in the breakfast nook. I take the chair beside Peeta – making sure that we're close enough for our arms to brush – and Gale sits across from us, extending his feet out so that all our toes touch under the table.

I'm just thinking of how sad it is that _this _is as close as we can get to being affectionate (and how pathetic is it that I'm so deprived, even these small touches are a thrill?) when I notice a mark on Peeta's skin, right where the collar of his shirt just shifted.

"Peeta!" I blurt out, carelessly tugging his collar aside, revealing the edge of a hideous purplish bruise that seems to extend out and cover his whole shoulder. "When did this happen?"

Peeta presses his cheek against the back of my hand and tugs the collar of his shirt back into place. "Katniss," he says softly with a funny, embarrassed little laugh. "It's nothing to worry about. Really. I'm fine."

I stare at him for a long time, but he determinedly keeps his eyes on his mug of cider, clutching it tightly.

"Someone hurt you," I state slowly, putting the pieces together. His mother? What did she hit him with? And what for?

But Peeta doesn't say anything.

I look frantically towards Gale for some kind of explanation. He seems disturbed by the implications of Peeta's injury, but his steely expression softens when he sees my eyes filling with tears.

I don't cry very often, really. But I have an especially hard time when it comes to watching people suffer.

I turn back to Peeta and gently pull the collar of his shirt aside once more. He makes no move to stop me, so I lay a gentle kiss on the exposed part of his bruise.

"Oh Peet," I murmur sadly, wondering if my mother has anything in her arsenal of herbal remedies that could make a bruise heal faster. But I have a feeling that the shame and pain behind this injury go far deeper than any medicine could reach.

As soon Gale sees that I've started to weep, he clears his throat and stands up, coming around the table to stand directly behind our chairs. "You know, Peet, you're my friend and you're welcome to stay at my house anytime."

"Thank you," Peeta mumbles.

Then Gale sighs, perhaps realizing that - much like him - Peeta isn't about to accept a charity offer, at least not in this case. "I _want_ you to stay at my place tonight," he says more directly, squeezing Peeta's good shoulder and sliding his hand down to rest against his upper chest, like a protective older brother. I quickly cover Gale's hand with my own, and together we wrap Peeta up in a makeshift sort of hug.

"I love you," I whisper to him. "And Gale does, too," because I know that Gale loves whoever I love.

I look up at him for confirmation of this and he nods, adding, "And I think it's time we show him the cabin, too."

"Oh yes," I agree, cheering up a bit at the thought. "You'll love the cabin, Peeta."

"What's going on?" Prim's concerned little voice suddenly interrupts.

I hadn't seen her enter the kitchen, but the way she's anxiously clutching her empty mug and has her eyebrows all drawn up in worry over us is almost as heartbreaking to me as seeing Peeta in pain. I discreetly wipe my face on my sleeve as I jump up to usher her back into the living room.

"Nevermind. Come on," I say softly, leading her away by her shoulders, leaving the guys together at the table by themselves. Thankfully, Prim is tactful enough not to pry.

I don't know exactly what transpires between the two of them after we leave, but when Gale and Peeta finally rejoin the rest of us in front of the fire, they seem to be even better friends than before.

I'm suddenly overwhelmed by how grateful I am that they have each other.

I glance around the room, taking in Prim with her knitting, my mother and Hazelle deep in conversation, Rory and Vick peeling oranges by the fire, Posy dozing off against the arm of the couch.

I'm grateful that we all have each other.

* * *

"Well, the pump is frozen," I announce, kicking the snow from my boots as I enter the little wooden cabin.

Gale and Peeta and I had set out into the woods at first light this morning, packed to the hilt with Christmas leftovers and a bunch of extra blankets. We were prepared to spend the whole day relaxing in the cabin, just the three of us. But the hike had taken longer and been much more arduous than I remembered - probably because of the added obstacle of so much ice and snow - and to top it off, we arrived exhausted and thirsty only to discover that the handle of the freshwater pump was frozen solid.

"I don't want to force it and break it," I continue, stripping off my coat, "so I guess we'll just have to melt some snow in a pot and drink that."

"Hey Peet, look in my backpack, will you?" Gale calls over his shoulder, all but ignoring me as he tries to coax a roaring fire out of the tiny flame he has going.

"Did you hear me?" I repeat. "Pump. Frozen. No running water."

Peeta's head emerges from the loft area at the top of the cabin.

"This place is awesome! How did you come by it again?"

"My father built it with his father a long time ago. Look, we have no water," I say flatly, ignoring his enthusiasm.

"Look in my backpack!" Gale insists.

"What's so important about your…" I trail off as Peeta arrives at my side with the pack, drawing out a long-necked green bottle with a foil top. We look at one another curiously.

"_Champagne_," he reads.

"If you're thirsty, you can drink that," Gale says. Finally satisfied with his fire, he stands up and brushes off the knees of his pants, turning towards Peeta and I. "It's not the highest quality stuff, but I'm working the night shift on New Year's. So, I figured we could celebrate a little early."

"But Gale, I'm not twenty-one yet!" I gasp in mock horror, putting on an affected Capitol accent.

"Yes, but Katniss," Peeta counters seriously, "this is a life or death situation. Haven't you heard? _We don't have water_."

Then he expertly pops the cork.

The three of us make a nest of our blankets and sprawl out in front of the fire, passing around the bottle as we eat turkey-and-stuffing sandwiches. For dessert, Peeta brings out a number of (somewhat crushed, but no less delicious) Christmas leftovers from the bakery – soft gingerbread cake and marzipan and jam tarts and chocolate-dipped shortbread, and even something called _brioche, _coated with candied nuts and an orange glaze. It's all far too much food for us to finish, but between the three of us, the bottle of bubbly champagne has no problem disappearing.

I'm feeling a little bit bubbly myself when I decide, later, to take the empty bottle and spin it around on the wooden floor. It makes a hollow, grinding sound, but Peeta and Gale - who are lying lazily on their backs in front of the fire - don't even open their eyes to see what's going on.

"Truth or dare!" I declare to no one in particular.

"You're thinking of _Spin the Bottle_, Catnip," Gale chuckles, his hands folded over his chest, "but I'll still play with you. Truth."

"Mmm… How old were you when you first had sex?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"Ah, but does Peeta?" I point out.

Gale smiles, eyes still shut. "Fair enough. I was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Peeta echoes. "Seriously?"

"Why, how old were you?"

Peeta's eyes pop open.

"Eighteen."

"Eighteen? Really?" I sputter. That means that Peeta was still a virgin just a year ago! "But you're _Peeta Mellark!_" I insist. "You always had a girlfriend in high school!"

"Yeah, well, you can still have a lot of fun without actually having _sex_. You should know that better than anyone, Katniss," he says with a wink. "Unless we're using different definitions of-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second," Gale interrupts, opening his eyes. "Am I supposed to take that to mean that you two _still _haven't…" he motions between us.

"No," I admit. "Although he _did_ tie me up with my pantyhose that night before we got on the train."

Gale's face registers such a unique combination of shock, delight and disbelief at this new piece of information that I can't help but burst out laughing.

"It's true," Peeta tells him with a smirk, lifting himself up on his hands and knees and crawling towards me. "You see, Gale, I like to torture her with the anticipation of it." He grins, grabbing my ankle and kissing his way up my calf. I'm still fully clothed, so it's more humorous than erotic – I collapse flat onto my back and start giggling afresh - but then Peeta reaches up and pops open the button of my jeans, and things suddenly take a serious turn. I fall silent.

"I like to tease her," he continues, kissing the flat expanse of my lower stomach, just above the edge of my underwear. "Make her touch herself. Make her fantasize about it."

For a second, the only sound in the cabin is that of Peeta's warm, wet lips on my skin.

"But mostly," he finishes, starting to tug my jeans down, "mostly, I just I like to watch her come."

I exhale shakily, lifting my hips to make his task easier.

Gale sits up and silently watches as Peeta undresses me. With the calmest of calms, he pulls off each of my socks, then my pants, leg by leg. He makes short work of my flimsy cotton panties, tossing them aside; my shirt and bra quickly follow, leaving me completely nude on the dusty cabin floor.

Gale catches my gaze just as Peeta rises to his knees and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his lean, pale torso. "And how old were you, Catnip?" he asks quietly.

Gale knows damn well how old I was, but he's asking the question for Peeta's sake now. I smile conspiratorially with him.

"I was sixteen," I answer softly, then direct my attention back to the blue eyes above me. "And it was with Gale, right here in this cabin."

Peeta watches my face so intently as he pushes my knee aside and parts my legs that I find myself unable to look away. I hear his zipper descend, followed by the rustle of fabric as he shucks off his pants and underwear.

"Then it would be in keeping with tradition for our first time to be here, too," he breathes, rising up over me and planting his hands on either side of my head.

"Yes," I squeak, a little awed and intimidated by this particularly sensual, domineering side of Peeta that I've so rarely seen. I can feel the heat radiating off his naked body, just inches above my own.

"What do you think, Gale?" Peeta asks, never once breaking eye contact with me. He reaches down and grips his already erect cock, shamelessly tracing his tip through my slick folds, up and down. I inhale sharply and actually start to tremble._ Yes._ I've been waiting for this for so long that I'm already on the verge of falling to pieces.

"Peeta," I whimper softly, tilting my hips up towards him.

He leans down and quiets me with a sweet kiss, but makes no move to enter me until Gale speaks.

"I think she's waited long enough," he finally answers.

And with that, Peeta pushes into me.

We fuck on the cabin floor twice that afternoon, panting and gasping and cleaving to one another as Gale watches. At one point I reach out towards him, beckoning him to join us.

"Gale-_ah! Ah!_" I gasp out, my neck snapping back as Peeta hits a particularly sensitive spot. "Gale!"

He comes over and kneels beside us, slipping his hand down between our damp, writhing bodies, scissoring his fingers around the spot where Peeta and I are connected.

I feel Peeta lean back and slow his movements, pausing to watch Gale's skilled fingers tease my ripe, pink bud.

"Please, please," I choke out, twitching and bucking beneath his touch. I feel myself clench around Peeta's length, still buried inside me.

"God, that's sexy," Peeta groans, firmly gripping my hips to steady me.

"I like to watch her come, too," Gale tells him, "but this time, I want to see you do it." Then he withdraws his hand, stands up and crosses the room, taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs near the wall.

Gale lifts his cock from his pants and begins to stroke himself as Peeta rhythmically fills my body with his own, over and over again. I rake my fingernails down his sweaty back, trying to somehow get _more_ of him, gasping into his ear and clinging to his shifting shoulder muscles when he hits that sweet spot inside me that makes my legs quiver.

"Katniss," he pants against my dewy skin, cradling my back with his forearms and sucking each of my sensitive nipples into his mouth, one after the other. The way his teeth almost painfully graze the tips of my breasts while he continues to pump into me below amounts to a heady mess of a sensation that makes me cry out wildly. My head falls back against the cabin floor with a soft thump and the wet sound of our bodies slapping together grows noticably louder.

"I'm close," I manage to whimper. "I'm coming."

"You're so wet," Peeta gasps. "Oh, _fuck,_ Katniss. Katniss. _Katniss._"

Somewhere else in the room, I hear the low moan of Gale's release.

"_Katniss_."

I clutch Peeta's head to my chest and tighten my legs around him, climaxing to the sound of him saying my name.

* * *

That evening, the three of us return to the district even more exhausted than when we first arrived at the cabin. I'm honestly too tired from hiking and weeks of pretending not to be together to even care about covering up our relationship anymore.

"Stay with me tonight," I say to Peeta and Gale when we get to my front porch. "I don't want to sleep alone anymore."

They must be as tired as I am, literally and figuratively, because they both instantly agree.

It's really too easy to sneak them into my bedroom. They don't even have to think about climbing the icy trellis that leads up to my window - my mother and Prim are already getting ready for bed, and I'm able to let them in through the back door just a few minutes later. We silently creep up to my room, close the door behind us and undress each other in the pale moonlight. Then we climb under the covers together - all warm skin pressed up against warm skin – and immediately fall into a blissful sleep.

Very early in the morning, I wake up between Gale and Peeta's naked bodies with that same rested, contented feeling that I had on the train. It's so peaceful and cozy and warm lying between them that I can't help but tangle my legs up with Peeta's and snuggle into Gale's shoulder a little more. I sigh softly. Just a few more minutes of this divine sleep…

Wait. My eyes flash open. What woke me up?

"Katniss?" wavers Prim's voice, and my heart nearly stops.

I sit straight up, clutching the sheets to my chest, only to find my little sister standing in the doorway, completely shocked by the scene before her. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the little crystal doorknob for support.

"Prim!" I squeak, my voice cracking.

She just wordlessly backs out of the room, closing the door with a soft click.


	10. Chapter 10: New Year's Resolutions

**Chapter 10: New Year's Resolutions**

I just sort of sit there for a second, frozen in place and clutching the sheets to my bare body. Then I glance at the clock.

5:05 a.m.

I'm definitely awake. I wasn't dreaming. My fifteen-year-old sister really _did_ just walk in on Peeta, Gale and I, together in bed. Naked.

_Shit._

Behind me, I hear Gale's even breathing cut short, followed by his warm hand resting on the small of my back.

"Why are you up?" he asks groggily, trying to coax me back into the crook of his arm.

Instead, I roll over top of Peeta and thump to the floor, accidentally catching my knee against his side and waking him up in the process. He startles and automatically reaches out to steady me, but I wriggle free and make a beeline for the white terrycloth bathrobe slung over the chair in the corner.

"Katniss?" Peeta murmurs, sitting up and squinting at me sleepily alongside Gale.

"It's Prim," I say, throwing my arms into the robe. "She saw us. You both have to get dressed and go home."

"Wait… What?"

"She walked in and- and she _saw _us, okay? You have to go! Now!"

I pace around the room aimlessly, my bathrobe falling open as I pick up random pieces of our clothing from the floor. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing – the shock of my sister walking in on us seems to have short-circuited my ability to think – but I throw each item onto bed in some sort of attempt to hurry the guys' departure. I'm so rattled that I end up hurling Gale's shirt at Peeta and my own jeans at Gale. He grunts as the pair of pants hit him in the chest, then holds them up and eyes them skeptically.

"Sorry," I mutter, snatching them back.

"Katniss, slow down. I'm sure everything will be fine," Peeta reassures me as he slips out of bed and starts to dress. "Just go talk to her."

"Yes. Of course. Yes, I have to talk to her, I know that," I reason aloud, twisting the denim tightly in my hands. I sound deranged. I will my feet to walk towards the bedroom door, but they stay rooted to the spot. Gale notices my hesitation and reaches over to close my robe, tying the belt at the waist.

"It's just Prim," he reminds me softly, smoothing his hands over my hips.

"I know," I sigh. My shoulders slump and I drop the pair of jeans. It's not that I think she'll laugh at me or even run and tell our mother. It's just that if she doesn't understand what's going on between Peeta and Gale and I, I fear that we'll lose our close bond. And with my father gone and only a tense, frayed remnant of a relationship with my mother, I don't know if I could bear losing Prim, too.

I don't think I could sacrifice her for anyone.

Gale leans in to try to kiss me, but I turn my head away and his lips catch my cheek instead.

I didn't felt right keeping this a secret from my sister, but it didn't feel right holding back affection from Peeta and Gale at our Christmas dinner, either. I can't keep living a double life. Something has to give.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks, seeing me turn away. He sounds worried.

I slowly rub my cheek where Gale's warm lips just were, unable to bring myself to look either of them in the eye.

"I can't do this anymore," I whisper, my throat tight. "Please… just go home."

* * *

After Peeta and Gale have climbed out my bedroom window, I take a deep breath and go in search of Prim. I eventually find her downstairs in the breakfast nook, eating cereal by herself. She pauses mid-bite when she sees me, then quickly looks down into her bowl.

It's so quiet that I can hear the hum of the lightbulb in the lamp above us.

"Hey," I finally croak, forcing myself to approach the table. I'm secretly thankful that I caught her while she was eating – her mouth is too full of cereal to object when I pull out a chair and sit down across from her.

I clear my throat and cross my legs. Clear my throat again. Wrap the end of my bathrobe's belt around my thumb. Prim swallows.

"What you saw… um," I start, but my words quickly dry up. What am I supposed to say? _It's not what it looked like_? That's what everyone always says in the movies, but I'm pretty sure it won't do me any good in this situation, because, well... it's _exactly_ what it looked like.

So I just sit there, digging my fingernail into the wood grain of the table, unsure of what to say or do next. It's Prim who ends up breaking the awkward silence.

"I won't tell," she says steadily, looking up and meeting my eye. I had expected to find her blushing and embarrassed, but she's not. Instead, a very composed young woman sits across from me.

"I know," I choke, suddenly feeling very babyish next to my younger sister. And then the whole story just pours out of me. How Peeta and Gale and I became close friends and how it developed into more so naturally; how it feels so right and normal for us, but how people like Nerissa just don't seem to get it; how rotten I felt about trying to keep it a secret from her, and how much better Gale and Peeta and I all are when we're with each other.

I talk about that last part for a long time. It's the first chance I've ever really had to talk about it safely to another person. By the time I catch myself gushing and abruptly force myself to shut up, an understanding smile has bloomed on Prim's lips.

"I think get it," she says slowly and soberly.

"Y-you do?"

"Of course. You're in love with them both." She gives a little shrug and returns to her cereal bowl, as if it's just as simple as that.

And I guess it _is_ just as simple as that.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with loving more than one person," she adds a moment later, taking another bite and chewing contemplatively.

"Yeah," I agree weakly. I want to say more, but I'm still a little dumbstruck by how levelheaded she's being.

"But why didn't you just tell me?" Prim continues gently, unabated by my silence. "We always tell each other about boys."

Actually, that's not entirely true. We've only ever talked about Prim's crushes, not my own. There have never really _been _any crushes on my end to talk about. I was always too busy trying to hold our family together to give silly crushes the time of day.

And that's when it hits me: _Silly _crushes.

That's exactly what love always was to me.

Silly.

All this time, I thought that falling in love was stupid and foolish and weak. And I wanted to keep my head above all that and maintain a strong front for Prim's sake - she needed me, after all. But now, looking across the table at the mature young woman she has become, I'm wondering if maybe she no longer needs me to protect her, at least not as closely as I have in the past. And maybe, in the same way, I've also outgrown the need to protect my own heart.

Maybe it's time I let both of us go.

"I guess… I guess I was just scared," I finally whisper. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

Prim searches my face, then reaches over and squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"You're allowed to be happy, Katniss," she says quietly. Then she stands up, crosses over to my side of the table and plants a kiss my forehead. "You're allowed to be loved."

I sit there, lost for words as Prim picks up her cereal bowl and walks it over to the sink. I watch as she dries her hands on the dishtowel, then neatly tucks a lock of her tousled blonde hair behind her ear, just the way our mother does.

When did my little sister get so grown up?

* * *

I spend the entire afternoon after my heart-to-heart with Prim just wandering through the woods by myself, replaying her words in my mind.

_You're allowed to be happy, Katniss. You're allowed to be loved._

I chew the inside of my cheek. Is that why I didn't want to tell people? Not because I feared that they wouldn't understand, but because I didn't want to risk looking like a dumb, weak girl who had fallen head-over-heels in love?

How childish. Why did I think I could escape my feelings by not acknowledging them? I obviously care deeply for Gale and Peeta, whether I want to admit it or not. Prim could easily tell. The only person I've been fooling is myself.

And how come I never realized until now that love is a two-way street? It's not enough to just say _I love you_ – I'm doing a disservice to Peeta and Gale and our entire relationship if I can't bring myself to receive those words, too. Didn't I just finish enthusiastically telling Prim about how deliriously happy they make me? How we're all so good together? Why would I jeopardize that?

"What the fuck is wrong with me!" I mutter aloud, kicking a clump of snow. All this time I thought I was being smart and strong when really I've been blind and cowardly. I'm simultaneously ashamed of my behavior and grateful to Gale and Peeta for putting up with me.

No. No, not putting up with me. _Loving_ me.

I have to get used to that.

It's going to take time to sink it, but I make it my New Year's resolution.

* * *

By the time I get back to the district, all the shops in the square are closing early for New Year's Eve festivities. My phone buzzes with a text that I must've missed while I was out of range. Gale is working his shift in the mines right now – his last one, since we're taking an early train back to the Capitol tomorrow morning – so I know even before I looking, I know that it must be Peeta.

_Hope your talk with Prim went well. If you need anything, just call. Happy New Year, Katniss._

Poor Peeta. His message is sweet, but distant. He and Gale probably don't even know where they stand with me anymore. One minute I'm asking them stay the night, the next I'm frantically kicking them out of my bed.

Ugh. I know I'm terrible with words and I wanted to wait until we were all together on the train tomorrow before trying to say what needs to be said, but I owe him an explanation now, so I dial his number.

He picks up after two rings.

"Katniss?"

"…Hey."

"Hey." There's an awkward pause and I can hear his brothers' voices in the background. They're talking about lighting fireworks. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," I answer. "It's just… well, you said in your text that if I needed anything I could call you."

"Just a sec," Peeta says, and then the background noise dims. "What is it?" he asks.

"Don't sound so worried. It's not bad," I say lightly, trying to dispel my nervousness. I've never said what I'm about to say to anyone. This is harder to say than _I love you_.

"Katniss, tell me what you need," he insists.

I swallow hard.

"Um, well, I need… I need _you_. I need you and Gale."

Peeta and I spend the next few hours on the phone together as I clumsily put into words all the things that my chat with Prim made me realize. I think I even use a few of those syrupy romantic clichés that I used to find so worthless. I finish by apologizing for so rudely kicking him and Gale out of my bed earlier this morning, half expecting to have to beg for his forgiveness, but he just laughs.

"Well, it wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up, but I don't blame you. I don't know what I'd do if my brothers walked in on us. Speaking of which, are you in bed right now?"

A dirty thought crosses my mind and I smile._ Phone sex?_ "Yeah. Prim is at a friend's house and I'm just here partying in my pajamas. Why?"

"Come to your window."

Oh. Forget the phone sex idea.

"This better be good," I tease, getting up and drawing the curtain aside.

There, in the yard below, stands Peeta. He's clutching a lit sparkler which casts an golden glow against the side of his face, illuminating his smile.

"It's midnight," he announces. "How about a kiss?"

A day ago I probably would've told him to put out that sparkler and get inside before the neighbors saw him. But today is the first day of a New Year, and I have a resolution to keep.

"Peeta!" I laugh, shaking my head. Then, before I can second-guess myself, I throw open the window and shimmy out onto the roof. Peeta plants the sparkler into the snow as I climb down the trellis, catching me with open arms once I reach the bottom. I clasp my hands together behind his neck.

"I love you, Katniss Everdeen," he grins, blowing a tendril of my hair off my forehead before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on my lips.

It's probably the most cheesy, romantic moment of my life, and I guarantee that people can see us from their windows.

But I think I'm finally okay with both of those things.

* * *

Afterwards, Peeta and I put together a little midnight snack and send Gale a text saying that we're going to come meet him by the east entrance of the mine. As we approach the looming shadow of the coal elevator, the constant drone of the mining machinery grows louder and my stomach twists into a knot. Ever since the accident, I've felt sick just being near the mines I don't know how Gale can stand it.

A sudden wave of dizziness hits me and I reach out for Peeta's hand to steady myself. To my surprise, his fingers find mine first.

"I'm with you," he says quietly. He squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Let's stop and wait for him here."

Around 1 a.m., Gale spots us. It's a good thing, too, because even with the floodlights that illuminate the mining site during the night shift, he's so caked in coal dust and dirt that that he's barely recognizable. He approaches with an orange helmet dangling from his fingers, scrubbing the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead.

"I swear, after I finish my degree I'm never going work another shift down there," he spits. "And I'm not going to let Rory or Vick or Posy spend their whole lives in those mines, either." Then, without missing a beat, he nods towards my hand tucked inside of Peeta's. "So I guess this means we didn't scar Prim for life? We're good?"

I can't help but chuckle a little at his bluntness.

"Yeah, we're good. Prim understands, actually."

"I knew she would," Gale sighs. "It was you who needed convincing."

Suddenly, in that moment, I see through all of Gale's fire and bluntness and sharp words. He's not frustrated - just tired. He has probably been waiting longer than anyone for me to come around. Years, even.

With a pang of guilt, I step forward and throw my arms around his shoulders, embracing him tightly.

"Look," I insist, cupping his smudged face in my hands a moment later. I take a deep breath and tell him what I told Peeta earlier. "I need you. I love you. You're my boyfriend, okay? We belong to each other. I am yours and you are mine and we are each other's – you and me and Peeta, together. We're each other's family. We're together."

Gale doesn't say a word. He just searches my eyes with his own. The whites stand out, clear and bright against all that coal dust.

Then his hands come up on either side of my face in a mirror image of my own, and his thumb brushes the side of my mouth.

"Happy New Year, Katniss," Gale whispers, just before he leans in and kisses me.


End file.
